BY 

W.BLEFFINGWELL 

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MANULITO 


OR, 


A   STRANGE    FRIENDSHIP 


BY 


WILLIAM  BRUCE  LEFFINGWELL, 

AUTHOR  OF  "WILD  FOWL   SHOOTING,"   "  SHOOTING  ON 
UPLAND,    MARSH,  AND   STREAM,"  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY. 

1892. 


Copyright,  1892,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


f 


5 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE    I. 

PAGE 

Unrequited  Friendship 6 

CHAPTEE    II. 
The  Challenge  and  the  Duel 14 

CHAPTEE    III. 
Eeconciliation 29 

CHAPTEE    IV. 
Old  Man  Kirtley 44 

CHAPTEE    V. 
The  Battle  in  the  Eiver 60 

CHAPTEE    VI. 
Uncle  Eastus 73 

CHAPTEE    VII. 
Mr.  Thompson  and  his  Horse 96 

CHAPTEE    VIII. 
A  Gala  Day  at  the  Village 114 

CHAPTEE    IX. 

The  Horse-Eace 123 

3 


M604699 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    X. 

PAGK 

The  Departure  of  Manulito      162 

CHAPTER    XL 
The  Messenger 192 

CHAPTER    XII. 
From  Tillage  to  City 223 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
The  Gladiators 236 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
Manulito 257 

CHAPTER    XV. 
The  Chase 277 

CHAPTER    XVI. 
Destiny      295 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
The  Wanderer's  Return 304 


MANULITO; 

OR, 

A    STRANGE    FRIENDSHIP. 


CHAPTER  I. 

UNREQUITED   FRIENDSHIP. 

"  Fate  made  me  what  I  am — may  make  me  nothing, 
But  either  that  or  nothing  must  I  be ; 
I  will  not  live  degraded." 

BYRON. 

THE  summer  days  had  passed,  the  frosts  of  Oc 
tober  nights  had  touched  with  gilded  fingers  the 
trees  and  grass,  the  rich  green  of  the  summer-time 
was  gone,  and  the  autumnal  season  was  changing 
to  scarlet  hues  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  and  coating 
with  yellowish  brown  the  blades  in  the  meadows 
and  marshes.  Among  the  trees,  the  evidences  of 
approaching  winter  were  apparent ;  the  leaves  fell 
in  gentle  quiverings  to  the  earth ;  the  wild  ducks 
were  in  the  streams ;  the  prairie-chickens  had 
"packed;"  the  advance  guard  of  Canada  geese 
had  appeared  ;  and  the  busy  squirrels  were  work 
ing  industriously,  garnering  their  winter  stores. 

l*  6 


6  MANULITO. 

In  this  early  day  the  vast  solitude  seemed  un 
inhabited  by  human  life,  and  the  quietude  was 
apparently  unbroken,  the  soil  untouched  by  the 
foot  of  sacrilegious  man.  And  yet,  while  the  birds 
flitted  through  the  woods  and  the  wild  turkey 
strutted  in  perfect  abandon,  and  in  the  bottom 
lands  the  deer  herded  together  in  droves  and 
browsed  in  apparent  safety,  two  hunters  were  trav 
ersing  the  woods,  one,  a  white  man,  who  was 
nearing  his  little  home  in  the  sparsely-settled 
country,  the  other,  an  Indian,  just  returning  from 
the  village,  and  each  ignorant  of  the  presence  of 
the  other. 

Beneath  the  branches  of  the  great  hickory-trees 
the  dwarfish  burr-oaks  spread  their  ragged  arms  in 
elfish  grimaces,  as  they  looked  up  at  their  majestic 
neighbors.  The  squirrels  seemed  to  be  in  every 
hickory-tree,  and,  while  the  unshed  leaves  hid 
them  from  view,  the  constant  pattering  of  the 
"shucks"  on  the  carpeted  earth  and  the  falling 
leaves  betrayed  their  presence.  At  one  place  the 
thickness  of  the  timber  temporarily  ceased,  and  an 
open  glade  received  with  frank  warmth  the  caress 
ing  beams  of  the  October  sun  which  streamed  in 
unbroken  rays  on  the  faded  grass.  The  density 
of  the  forest  at  the  west  would  cause  the  most 
unromantic  mind  to  wonder  at  its  apparent  end 
lessness,  and  to  conjecture  what  it  contained.  The 
silence  of  death  pervaded  this  wilderness,  when 
suddenly  the  bushes  parted,  and  as  if  ushered 


UNREQUITED  FRIENDSHIP.  7 

from  some  other  world,  there  stepped  into  the 
open  glade  a  magnificent  figure,  a  perfect  speci 
men  of  physical  manhood.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
semi-civilized  costume,  showing  his  desire  to  con 
form  to  some  rules  of  conventionality  and  yet 
retain  perfect  freedom  of  action.  In  height,  he 
was  a  trifle  over  six  feet ;  in  weight,  perhaps  one 
hundred  and  eighty  pounds,  but  so  perfect  in  his 
build  that  he  looked  slighter ;  he  was  erect,  pos 
sessed  of  great  strength,  and  as  supple  in  his 
movements  as  a  trained  athlete.  On  his  head  he 
wore  a  gray  turban  cap  with  folding  rim,  while 
sewed  on  its  front  and  flowing  with  a  graceful 
swerve  over  it  was  a  single  feather,  the  pinion  of 
the  gray  eagle.  His  jacket  and  trousers  were  made 
of  buckskin,  and  his  feet  were  encased  in  moc 
casins.  He  was  apparently  from  twenty-five  to 
twenty-eight  years  of  age.  His  forehead  broad 
and  high.  His  eyes  were  of  the  deepest  blue,  and 
in  their  light  the  soul  of  frankness  prevailed. 
Their  glance  won  involuntary  affection,  captured 
the  fealty  of  man  and  beast,  and  when  their  owner 
was  pleading  for  the  oppressed,  or  condemning  some 
act,  they  shone  with  a  grayish  brilliancy  that  caused 
the  most  hardened  criminal  to  tremble.  His  nose 
was  large,  yet  in  proportion  to  his  features,  and 
slightly  hooked,  an  indication  of  the  eagle  when 
aroused.  His  mouth  was  a  study,  while  through 
his  beardless  lips  there  shone  in  matchless  even 
ness  teeth  perfect  in  form  and  of  the  purest  white. 


8  MANULITO. 

His  chin  was  broad  and  prominent,  showing  de 
cision,  and  his  voice  was  sweet  and  mellow.  On 
the  hunter's  left  arm  the  barrel  of  his  rifle  lay 
carelessly,  while  his  right  hand  grasped  the  stock 
and  his  fingers  rested  against  the  trigger  guard. 
Over  his  shoulder  there  hung  a  magnificent  speci 
men  of  the  wild  turkey.  As  he  stepped  into  the 
opening  his  dog  was  at  his  side,  and  he  was  one  to 
command  both  admiration  and  respect.  His  ears 
were  cropped,  his  size  immense ;  in  color  he  was  a 
grayish  brindle,  and  in  breeding  he  combined  the 
blood  of  the  Scotch  deer-hound,  the  blood-hound, 
and  the  bull-dog.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had  inherited 
the  good  qualities  of  them  all,  for  he  was  fleet  as 
the  swiftest  deer,  his  nose  so  sensitive  that  he  dis 
cerned  the  faintest  scent,  and  his  pluck  and  fear 
lessness  beyond  parallel.  All  the  affection  this  dog 
felt  for  any  human  being  was  concentrated  in  his 
devotion  to  his  master,  and  even  the  ferocity  of  his 
glance  softened  into  gentleness  as  he  looked  into 
his  eyes. 

They  had  not  gone  more  than  a  few  steps  before 
the  south  wind  brought  to  the  ears  of  the  hunter 
the  faint  "  gobble"  of  a  turkey.  Quick  as  thought 
he  raised  his  finger  warningly  to  the  dog  and 
stepped  back  into  the  thicket.  Plucking  a  green 
leaf  from  an  under  bough,  he  placed  it  to  his  lips 
and  called  three  times  in  perfect  imitation  of  the 
hen-turkey's  call ;  the  gobbler  answered,  but  the 
hunter  suddenly  arose  from  his  concealment  and 


UNREQUITED  FRIENDSHIP.  9 

exclaimed  to  his  dog,  "  Come,  Hector  !  what's  the 
use  of  shooting  more  than  we  want  ?  We've  one, 
and  that's  enough.  Besides,  Manulito  is  out  to-day 
and  he  will  bring  in  a  deer,  for  he  said  he  was 
going  down  on  the  bottoms,  and  he  will  surely  get 
a  shot.  If  he  does  he  will  get  his  deer,  for  although 
his  left  hand  is  gone  he  is  the  best  shot  in  this  sec 
tion, — of  course,"  continued  he,  smilingly,  "  except 
ing  you  and  me." 

At  this  moment  a  partridge  walked  proudly  into 
the  opening  within  a  few  yards  of  the  hunter. 
Astonished  at  seeing  him,  it  sprang  towards  him, 
then  wheeled  and  darted  across  the  glade.  The 
hunter's  gun  came  to  his  shoulder.  No  sooner 
had  the  butt  touched  it  than  the  explosion  fol 
lowed,  the  feathers  drifted  with  the  wind,  and  the 
partridge  fell  dead  fully  fifty  yards  from  him.  At 
his  command  the  dog  brought  the  bird,  but  its 
appearance  was  spoiled,  for  the  ball  had  struck 
at  the  base  of  the  neck,  and  head  and  neck  were 
gone.  As  the  hunter  took  it,  he  said  to  the  dog, 
"  It's  a  shame,  Hec,  to  wantonly  destroy  life,  and 
I  don't  often  do  it ;  but  the  bird  was  so  frightened, 
was  going  so  fast,  and  straight  away,  I  thought  I 
would  see  if  I  had  forgotten  my  cunning,  and  just 
as  soon  as  I  saw  the  effects  of  my  shot  I  was  sorry 
for  it.  But  that's  the  way  it  is  with  us  hunters  :  we 
often  attempt  a  difficult  shot,  but  the  pleasure  of 
success  is  more  than  lost  in  our  sincere  sorrow 
over  a  wanton  destruction  of  life." 


10  MANULITO. 

As  he  spoke  he  was  leaning  against  one  of  the 
largest  trees.  His  dog  seemed  uneasy,  and  as  he 
walked  near  his  master,  the  hunter  bent  over  him 
and  struck  him  playfully  with  his  cap.  As  he  did 
so,  the  loud"  report  of  a  rifle  rung  out,  and  the  hark 
of  the  tree  from  which  the  hunter's  body  had 
temporarily  moved  scattered  in  broken  fragments 
over  the  ground.  With  a  deep  growl  the  dog 
bounded  in  the  direction  whence  came  the  shot, 
while  the  hunter,  knowing  his  danger  in  his  ex 
posed  position,  sprang  behind  the  tree.  The  dog 
disappeared,  but  soon  returned  with  drooping  tail 
and  crestfallen  look.  The  master's  eyes  filled  with 
an  angry  light,  his  form  seemed  to  increase  in 
height,  and  his  fingers  clutched  his  rifle  until  it 
seemed  he  would  crush  it. 

"  What !"  said  he ;  "  afraid  ?  God  knows,  I  never 
thought  you  would  shrink  when  my  life  was  in 
danger, — you,  who  have  saved  me  at  two  different 
times,  and  strangled  the  enraged  and  wounded 
bucks  that  were  trampling  me  and  trying  to  gore 
me  to  death !  And  now  you  falter  ?  I  did  not 
think  that  the  man  or  beast  lived  that  you  feared. 
Ay,  I  thought  for  me  you  would  brave  flood  or 
fire.  I  would  do  it  for  you,  although  you  are  but 

a  dog.  But "  and  the  hunter  paused  as  a  quick 

suspicion  came  to  him,  "  can  it  be  possible  that  he 
fired  the  shot  ?  He  whom  I  have  always  befriended, 
whose  life  I  saved  at  the  peril  of  my  own  ?  They 
have  often  told  me  of  the  treachery  of  an  Indian, 


UNREQUITED  FRIENDSHIP.  H 

but  this  one, — Manulito, — who  taught  me  the  mys 
teries  of  the  forests,  the  secrets  of  woodcraft,  un 
til  I,  ignorant  before,  now  surpass  him  in  skill 
at  his  own  craft.  I  cannot  believe  it,  and  I  will 
not."  Turning  to  his  dog,  he  said,  "You  are  a 
craven,  and  I  cannot  understand  you.  'Tis  true 
that  you  know  Manulito  well,  and  have  hunted  with 
him  and  me  many  times,  but  what  of  it?  If  it 
were  he  that  fired  that  shot,  you  should  have  torn 
him  to  pieces.  But  then,"  said  the  hunter,  "  dogs, 
perhaps,  cannot  discriminate  between  right  and 
wrong." 

The  hunter  went  to  the  place  whence  the  smoke 
came  and  critically  examined  the  spot.  The  dog 
seemed  ashamed  of  his  actions  and  stood  still. 
While  the  hunter  was  on  hands  and  knees  search 
ing  for  some  sign  of  the  enemy,  Hector  stole  silently 
away,  and  was  gone  for  perhaps  a  minute  when  the 
hunter  missed  him.  He  was  about  to  call  when  he 
heard  a  sharp,  joyful  bark,  which  led  him  to  where 
the  dog  stood  wagging  his  tail.  At  first  nothing 
was  to  be  seen,  but  Hector  placed  his  nose  to 
the  ground,  and  there,  scarcely  perceptible  to  the 
ordinary  glance,  was  the  faint  impression  of  a 
moccasin.  Perhaps  the  hunter  would  have  been 
happier  if  he  had  not  seen  it,  for  he  knew  this 
track.  Going  back  to  the  tree,  he  examined  it, 
and  taking  his  hunting-knife,  extracted  the  bullet 
with  the  greatest  care  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  as  he  started 


12  MANULITO. 

homeward  his  thoughts  were  bitter,  and  the  fierce 
passion  that  smouldered  in  his  hosom  found  vent  at 
times  in  the  most  violent  outbursts. 

"  Oh,  the  ingratitude  of  man !"  said  he.  "  A  dog 
will  lick  the  hand  that  feeds  him,  and  hold  his  pro 
vider  eternally  with  sincerest  affection;  but  man, 
base,  unsympathetic  man,  is  like  a  serpent,  which, 
warmed  into  life  by  some  human  being,  will  turn 
at  the  first  opportunity  and  sting  the  hand  that 
kept  it  in  existence.  And  thus  it  is  with  me.  I 
have  come  near  ending  my  life,  shot  down  like  some 
wild  beast,  without  an  opportunity  of  defence,  and 
that,  too,  by  one  whom  I  had  rescued  from  a  death 
of  the  most  cruel  suffering." 

As  he  thought  of  these  things,  his  grief  in  dis 
covering  the  baseness  of  his  friend,  his  deep-seated 
anger  as  he  brooded  over  this  act,  caused  him  to 
reel  at  times,  and  the  proud,  elastic  step  which  had 
so  often  trod  the  forest  with  the  noiselessness  of  the 
panther  now  awakened  the  stillness  of  the  woods 
with  its  shambling  gait. 

"  I  would  not  have  believed  it !"  cried  he.  "  'Tis 
true  I  was  forewarned, — that  is,  in  a  general  way, 
— and  often  twitted  of  this  strange  companionship, 
and  told  that  the  Indian  would  commit  some  devil 
try  towards  me  the  first  chance  he  had.  And  how 
often  I  have  upheld  him,  befriended  him,  plead  for 
him,  cared  for  him,  clothed  him,  fed  him !  Why, 
at  my  house  food  and  clothing  were  as  free  to  him 
as  if  he  were  one  of  my  own  kin.  The  powder, 


UNREQUITED  FRIENDSHIP.  13 

the  ball  fired  at  me,  were  gifts  from  my  hand ;  his 
rifle,  the  mate  to  mine,  I  gave  him,  and  so  similar 
is  it  to  mine  that  but  two  persons,  he  and  I,  can  tell 
them  apart.  How  pleased  he  was  with  it !  and  well 
he  might  have  been,  for  a  handsomer,  truer  one 
never  reached  this  section  of  the  country."  And 
as  he  thought  of  this  he  set  his  teeth  and  brushed 
his  hand  before  his  eyes  as  if  to  dispel  some  horrible 
vision.  "  And  to  think,"  continued  he,  "  that  with 
this  gun,  my  gift,  the  mate  of  the  one  I  now  hold 
in  my  hand,  he  should  attempt  to  kill  the  man  who 
had  given  it  to  him  !  It  would  have  been  murder, 
— murder  most  foul  and  accursed, — for  it  would 
have  been  done  with  malice  aforethought.  And 
the  penalty,  if  he  were  detected,  would  be  death. 
Ay,  and  death  it  must  be,  for  before  the  setting  of 
the  sun  to-morrow  night  he  or  I  must  die.  I  could 
shoot  him  down  like  the  dog  he  is,  but  that  must 
not  be.  He  shall  have  a  chance  for  his  life,  but, 
wide  as  the  world  is,  he  and  I  must  not  wander  on 
its  face ;  it  is  too  small  for  both  of  us,  and  one  must 
leave  it  forever.  I  would  not  feel  safe  with  him 
living,  for,  having  once  attempted  to  kill  me,  the 
imagined  wrong  he  holds  against  me  will  never  be 
satisfied  while  I  am  alive." 


14  MANULITO. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  CHALLENGE  AND  THE  DUEL. 

"  So  the  struck  eagle,  stretch 'd  upon  the  plain, 
No  more  through  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 
Viewed  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart, 
And  wing'd  the  shaft  that  quivered  in  his  heart: 
Keen  were  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel 
He  nurs'd  the  pinion  which  impelled  the  steel." 

BYRON. 

THE  sun  had  gone  to  rest,  the  stars  were  shining 
brightly,  when  the  hunter  reached  his  cabin.  His 
loving  wife  and  prattling  babes  greeted  him  affec 
tionately;  he  kissed  them  fondly,  while  a  great 
lump  arose  in  his  throat,  for  he  felt  that,  perhaps, 
this  would  be  the  last  time  they  would  meet  him  at 
his  door.  But  he  hid  from  his  wife  the  feeling 
that  weighed  so  heavily  on  his  mind. 

"  "We  are  so  glad  to  see  you,  Will,  and  have  been 
waiting  and  watching  for  you." 

"  I  was  delayed,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "we  knew  you  were,  but 
Manulito  said " 

"What!"  thundered  he,  "Manulito,  the  Black 
Wolf,  been  here  ?" 

"  Why,  darling,"  she  replied,  "  he  came  some 
time  ago,  and  is  now  in  his  room,  and  I  am  afraid 


THE  CHALLENGE  AND   THE  DUEL.  15 

he  has  been  drinking  hard,  for  he  is  very  ugly,  and 
I  told  the  children  to  keep  away  from  him." 

At  the  mention  of  the  Indian's  name  the  hunter 
with  a  great  effort  controlled  himself,  and,  had  it 
not  heen  for  the  presence  of  his  wife  and  children, 
a  just  vengeance  would  have  been  at  once  meted 
out.  Why  had  the  Indian  come  to  the  house  after 
the  happenings  of  the  day  ?  Did  he  think  his  mur 
derous  design  had  been  carried  out,  and,  with  the 
cruelty  inherited  by  his  race,  did  he  intend  to  pur 
sue  his  purpose  still  further  and  exterminate  the 
family,  now  that  its  head  was  gone  ?  The  hunter 
did  not  comprehend  the  situation,  but,  telling  his 
wife  he  wished  to  go  to  the  kitchen  for  a  moment, 
left  her,  and  a  few  steps  brought  him  into  the  pres 
ence  of  his  enemy.  He  listened,  and  found  that  the 
Indian  was  asleep.  The  spirit  of  revenge  arose  in 
his  breast ;  he  set  his  rifle  against  the  wall  and  drew 
from  its  sheath  his  long  hunting-knife.  Cautiously 
he  glided  towards  the  sleeping  Indian,  then  from 
the  slumbering  form  drew  the  heavy  blanket,  expos 
ing  a  form  massive  and  muscular.  The  bare  skin 
was  discernible  in  the  feeble  light.  He  recalled  all 
the  cowardice  of  his  sleeping  foe,  his  attempt  to 
assassinate,  his  ingratitude,  his  treachery,  and  if  he 
spared  him  now,  perhaps  before  the  light  of  another 
day  he  and  his  little  ones  would  be  among  the  dead. 
Should  he  hand  him  over  to  justice?  Justice  in 
this  new  country  had  no  mercy  for  an  Indian,  and 
the  mere  accusation  of  this  popular  young  hunter, 


16  MANULITO. 

supported  as  it  would  be  by  circumstantial  evidence, 
meant  the  conviction  and  death  of  the  accused,  pro 
vided  summary  disposition  was  not  made  at  the 
hands  of  the  advocates  of  Judge  Lynch,  a  court 
that  was  in  great  favor  in  the  new  West.  But 
though  his  thoughts  were  bitter,  and  though  he 
knew  he  had  to  deal  with  one  cunning  and  merci 
less,  yet  he  could  not  kill  him  while  asleep.  The 
hunter's  body  trembled  in  his  emotion,  for  he  had 
resolved  that  on  the  following  day  he  would  bring 
the  Indian  to  an  account,  and  settle  forever  the  dif 
ferences  existing  between  them.  As  he  looked  on 
the  sleeping  body  of  his  false  and  ungrateful  friend 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  for  he  had  placed  in  him 
the  most  implicit  confidence,  and  the  memories  of 
the  delightful  days  they  had  passed  together  afield 
now  crowded  in  fleeting  visions  to  his  brain.  The 
bitter  pangs  of  unrequited  friendship  rankled  in  his 
bosom,  and  with  ill-suppressed  emotion  he  glided 
quietly  from  the  room. 

At  supper-time  his  wife  chided  him  because  he 
did  not  eat,  but  he  allayed  her  anxiety.  Supper 
being  over,  he  told  his  wife  he  was  going  to  mould 
some  bullets,  and  again  entered  the  room  of  the 
Indian.  Stepping  quickly  to  the  old  hearth,  he 
touched  the  prepared  wood,  and  at  once  there  shot 
up  a  strong  light,  quivering  and  wavering  on  the 
opposite  wall  and  on  the  floor,  where,  wrapped  in 
his  blanket,  the  Indian  still  lay. 

The  hunter  set  the  stock  of  the  rifle  on  the  floor, 


THE  CHALLENGE  AND    THE  DUEL.  17 

folded  his  arms  over  the  muzzle  of  the  long  barrel, 
looked  steadily  at  the  Indian,  and  said, — 

"  The  journeys  of  the  day  have  wearied  Manulito, 
and  he  returns  to  his  den  and  sleeps  while  the  Gray 
Eagle  hovers  o'er  him.  I  have  seen  Manulito  from 
hour  to  hour  pursue  the  wounded  elk,  and  when 
the  darkness  of  the  night  had  overtaken  him, 
return  from  many  miles  on  the  back  trail,  and  still 
his  limbs  were  not  weary  and  his  eyes  were  un- 
dimmed,  but  looked  into  the  darkness  with  a  clearer 
vision." 

As  the  hunter  first  spoke,  the  Indian  threw  his 
blanket  from  his  shoulder,  looked  in  astonishment 
at  the  speaker,  and  then  settled  back  in  a  noncha 
lant  manner  as  if  to  await  developments. 

"  Manulito  has  lost  his  cunning,"  continued  the 
hunter,  "  when  he  seeks  the  sacredness  of  a  home 
he  has  but  a  short  time  before  sought  to  destroy. 
Did  Manulito  have  good  luck  to-day  ?"  he  asked  in 
a  sneering  tone. 

As  the  light  grew  stronger  the  features  of  the 
Indian  were  brought  into  distinctness.  There  was 
nothing  evil  in  his  face.  On  the  contrary,  its  regu 
larity,  his  aquiline  nose,  his  perfect  teeth,  and  his 
haughty,  defiant  looks  caused  one  to  admire,  not 
fear,  him.  His  crown  was  close  shaven,  except  a 
tuft  filled  with  feathers,  and  around  his  bronze 
throat  a  necklace  of  wolf-claws  were  strung;  his 
body  was  naked  to  the  waist,  and  the  muscles  of 
his  chest  and  arms  stood  out  like  cords ;  his  black 
b  2* 


18  MANULITO. 

eyes  never  before  quailed  beneath  the  glance  of  any 
human  being,  but  now,  perhaps  he  felt  his  disgrace, 
realized  the  cowardly  attempt  he  had  made  to  shoot 
his  best  friend,  and  before  the  steady  gaze  of  the 
man  he  had  betrayed  his  eyes  fell;  his  confusion 
was  but  momentary,  however,  for  with  a  spring  he 
sat  upright  and  exclaimed, — 

"  Manulito  does  not  always  find  his  game.  The 
autumn  winds  have  dried  the  leaves  and  the  trail  is 
hard  to  follow." 

"Did  Manulito, — he  whom  I  have  called " 

and  the  hunter  straightened  his  tall  form  and  set 
his  teeth  together  firmly, — "  he  whom  I  have 
called  my  brother, — did  he  go  to  the  bottom-lands  in 
pursuit  of  deer  and  turkeys  ?  Or  was  this  game  too 
small,  and  did  Manulito  leave  the  flowing  prairie- 
grass  and  follow  the  coursing  stream,  or  traverse 
the  dense  forest  seeking  larger  game  ?" 

"Manulito  left  the  wigwam  of  him  whom  the 
pale-faces  call  '  Silver  Tongue'  when  the  coming  of 
the  day  had  chased  to  rest  the  departed  night,  and, 
while  the  frost  was  cold  and  hard  on  the  grass- 
blades,  sought  the  bottom-lands  in  pursuit  of  deer. 
But  Manulito  was  not  light  of  foot  nor  true  of 
sight,  and  the  day  passed,  and  he  is  here  without 
venison." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  hunter ;  "  but  were  other  than 
you  to  say  you  were  not  light  of  foot,  or  your  aim 
not  true,  I  would  know  they  lied !  Not  light  of 
foot  ?  Have  you  forgotten  the  time  when  you  taught 


THE  CHALLENGE  AND  THE  DUEL.      19 

me  woodcraft,  the  secrets  of  the  forest,  the  sheltered 
banks,  how  to  trap  the  mink  and  beaver,  how  to 
trace  in  air  the  flight  of  the  honey  bee,  how  to  tell 
the  course  of  the  winds,  the  points  of  the  compass  by 
the  mosses  on  the  old  trees  ?  Have  you  forgotten 
the  time  when,  with  the  steal thiness  of  a  tiger,  you 
crept  upon  the  buck  which  lay  half  concealed  be 
hind  a  log,  and  then  with  lightning  speed  sprung 
and  buried  your  tomahawk  in  the  frightened  ani 
mal's  brain  before  it  could  arise?  How,  when  the 
wounded  doe  sought  to  escape,  you  dashed  in  and 
seized  her  from  the  jaws  of  the  angry  hounds  ? 
How,  in  the  village  races,  you  made  but  sport  of 
those  who  contended  against  you?  Not  light  of 
foot  ?  No,  no ;  don't  say  that !  And  then  you  say 
you  are  not  true  of  sight.  On  the  brightest  day, 
when  the  sun  is  at  his  height  and  the  earth  is 
burning  under  his  penetrating  glances,  I  have  seen 
you  look  in  his  face  without  flinching.  Often  on 
the  prairie  you  have  told  with  unfailing  accuracy 
the  presence  of  the  deer  when  others  could  see 
nothing  but  sky  and  grass.  In  the  forest,  where 
the  trees  and  leaves  so  perfectly  blend  together, 
you  have  called  my  attention  to  the  ruffed  grouse 
as  he*  stood  close  to  the  body  of  the  tree,  looking 
like  some  old  gnarled  limb,  or  have  silently  picked 
from  under  some  faded  leaf  the  tiny  quail  that  had 
escaped  its  mother.  In  the  sky,  where  a  dot  of 
black  flecked  the  dome  of  the  heavens,  you  could 
discern  the  eagle  from  the  buzzard, — the  distance 


20  MANULITO. 

ne'er  deceived  you,  for  the  sky,  the  prairie,  and  the 
woods  were  all  as  open  books  to  you.  Then,  do  not 
say  you  were  not  true  of  sight,  but  rather  confess 
that  for  some  cause  unknown  to  me  you  attempted 
to  murder  your  best  friend.  I  do  not  believe  you 
were  in  the  bottoms.  I  do  not  believe  you  tried  to 
kill  deer  to-day.  But  I  do  know  that  one  shot  you 
fired  you  missed,  and  before  the  setting  of  another 
sun  you  shall  account  for  it." 

The  hunter  was  now  pacing  the  floor,  and  the 
Indian  sat  with  his  head  bowed  in  his  hands. 

"  What  has  Manulito  to  say  ?"  thundered  the 
hunter. 

The  Indian  did  not  reply,  but  sat  and  swayed  his 
body  to  and  fro  as  if  in  great  mental  or  bodily 
suffering. 

"  Listen,"  said  the  hunter,  "  and  I  will  tell  you 
a  story,  every  word  of  which  is  true,  and  your 
missing  hand  will  tell  you  of  its  truth. 

"  Five  years  ago  there  was  one  of  the  coldest 
winters  ever  known  in  the  West;  the  snow  fell 
heavily  in  November  and  stayed  until  April;  one 
fierce  storm  was  but  the  forerunner  of  others  to 
come ;  stock  perished  from  the  cold  ;  it  was  impossi 
ble  for  people  to  leave  their  houses  at  times,  so  the 
suffering  and  distress  were  great.  One  night  a  storm 
was  at  its  fiercest,  the  wind  blew  with  terrific  vio 
lence,  the  snow  was  churned  into  the  finest  powder, 
while  the  trees  roared  as  the  wind  tore  through 
them,  and  gave  to  its  violence  the  very  limbs  of 


THE  CHALLENGE  AND   THE  DUEL.  21 

their  bodies.  Cattle  were  huddled  together,  some 
moaning  in  anticipation  of  their  expected  fate, 
others  with  hacks  to  the  wind,  craving  the  protec 
tion  of  the  stacks  and  barns. 

"  In  a  cabin,  just  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  there 
lived  a  young  hunter,  his  wife,  and  child.  This 
night  they  sat  close  to  the  roaring  fire  and  listened 
to  the  crackling  of  the  hickory  wood,  while  the 
screeching  of  the  winds  and  the  lowing  of  the 
cattle  distressed  and  terrified  the  timid  mother,  and 
caused  the  prattling  babe  to  seek  the  safety  of  its 
father's  arms.  Suddenly  there  rose  above  the  din 
without  the  mournful  wail  of  a  hound.  *  What's 
that  ?'  the  young  man  said,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  listened  for  a  repetition  of  the  sound.  'It's 
nothing  but  the  wind  wailing  through  the  tree- 
tops,'  exclaimed  his  wife.  Then  again  it  was  heard, 
louder,  clearer  than  before.  *  Oh !'  said  he,  i  some 
one  is  lost,  is  perishing  in  the  storm,  and  the  hound 
is  bewailing  his  fate !' 

"  He  walked  to  the  door ;  all  was  darkness  with 
out,  but  he  distinctly  heard  the  howl  of  the  dog, 
and  located  the  sound.  The  wife  begged  him 
piteously  not  to  go,  the  child  repeated  in  baby  ac 
cents  the  mother's  appeal ;  but  a  life  was  at  stake, 
and  with  an  inward  prayer  for  protection,  he  stepped 
into  the  darkness.  But  why  continue  the  story, 
Manulito  ?" 

The  Indian  arose  as  if  to  speak,  but  the  hunter 
motioned  him  to  his  seat,  and  said, — 


22  MANULITO. 

"  He  was  gone  perhaps  half  an  hour  ;  to  his  wife 
it  seemed  an  eternity.  She  tried  to  look  out  into 
the  impenetrable  darkness,  but  could  see  nothing, 
and  on  her  bended  knees  she  besought  her  God — 
your  Manitou — that  her  husband  might  return. 
Her  prayers  were  answered,  for  she  heard  a  sound 
at  the  door,  and  quickly  opening  it,  found  her  hus 
band,  who,  with  a  final  effort,  dragged  into  the 
house  the  body  of  a  man,  and  fell  exhausted  at  her 
feet.  A  strange  dog  was  with  them,  a  hound, 
nearly  perished  with  hunger  and  exposure.  This 
man  whom  the  master  of  the  house  had  imperilled 
his  life  to  save  was  an  Indian.  His  left  hand  was 
so  badly  frozen  that  it  required  amputation.  All 
through  the  dreary  winter  the  Indian  was  cared 
for  in  that  home,  and  at  length  recovered  his 
health.  Would  you  not  have  thought,  Manulito, 
that  that  Indian  would  never  have  forgotten  their 
kindness  ?  That  his  life  would  have  been  dedicated 
to  them,  and  that  he  would  have  died  to  benefit 
those  who  nursed  him  back  to  life  again  ?  And  yet 
he  did  forget  all  these  things,  and  one  day  stalked 
this  hunter  and  fired  at  him  as  he  stood  resting 
against  a  tree." 

As  the  hunter  finished  his  tale,  he  paced  the 
floor,  as  if  he  had  reached  some  decision  that 
would  be  followed  without  deviation.  The  Indian, 
stoic  though  he  was,  tried  at  times  to  interrupt  the 
story,  but  the  hunter  waved  him  to  silence,  and  at 
last  he  remained  quiet. 


THE   CHALLENGE  AND   THE  DUEL.  23 

The  fire  had  gone  down,  and  a  bed  of  brilliant 
coals  shone  in  the  hearth. 

"Bring  me  your  bullet-mould  and  your  rifle," 
said  he  to  the  Indian. 

As  the  Indian  did  this,  the  hunter  took  from  his 
pocket  a  flattened  and  battered  piece  of  lead,  and 
said,  "  To-day  some  one  fired  this  bullet  at  me ;  it 
missed  me,  but  struck  a  tree  against  which  I  was 
standing.  I  had  accidentally  moved,  and  this  move 
ment  saved  my  life.  My  rifle  and  yours,  Manulito, 
have  the  largest  bores  of  any  to  be  found.  If  this 
bullet  fills  your  mould,  your  gun  sped  the  bullet." 

By  this  time  the  lead  was  melted  and  poured 
into  the  mould.  The  Indian  seemed  indifferent, 
and  looked  on  as  if  in  idle  curiosity.  As  the 
mould  opened  it  disclosed  a  perfect  ball,  which  the 
hunter  cooled  and  placed  in  the  muzzle  of  the 
Indian's  rifle,  showing  it  belonged  to  one  of  that 
calibre. 

"  What  has  Manulito,  my  brother,  to  say  ?"  cried 
the  hunter,  in  a  sneering  tone. 

The  Indian  cast  his  blanket  from  him  and 
stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  exposing  a 
form  fit  for  the  gladiatorial  ring,  and  said, — 

"  Manulito  is  here !  In  a  moment  of  passion  he 
sought  to  take  the  life  of  the  Gray  Eagle,  and  now 
thanks  his  Manitou,  the  Great  Spirit  of  his  fathers, 
that  he  failed.  "When  the  buck  is  killed  the  doe 
mourns,  and  when  the  doe  dies  the  fawn  perishes. 
The  Great  Spirit,  at  times,  protects  the  buck  that 


24  MANULITO.     . 

the  doe  and  fawn  may  live  and  bless  the  earth  with 
their  young ;  but  in  the  tribe  of  Manulito  treachery 
is  punished  with  death.  Manulito  is  not  afraid  to 
die.  Afraid  to  die !"  said  he,  in  derision,  and  his 
bosom  swelled.  He  then  walked  over  to  the  hunter 
and  said, — 

"  Gray  Eagle,  Manulito  forgot  that  you  had  saved 
his  life,  forgot  all  he  owed  you ;  but,  prompted  by 
the  Evil  Spirit,  sought  your  life.  Now  he  remem 
bers  all, — remembers  how  you  met  him  at  the  door 
of  your  cabin,  on  the  return  from  a  hunt,  invited 
him  in,  and  said,  '  The  Wolf  and  the  Eagle  will 
always  be  friends.'  Then  you  gave  him  this  gun, 
and  said,  '  We  are  brothers,  our  guns  are  alike.  I 
will  teach  you  the  mysteries  of  the  books,  and  you 
are  to  teach  me  the  secrets  of  the  woods.  We  will 
hunt  together,  fish  together,  and  when  night  over 
takes  us  we  will  divide  our  blankets,  and  the 
stars  and  the  Great  Spirit  will  watch  over  us  both.' 

But "  and  the  Indian  hesitated,  speaking  in 

sorrowful  tones,  "  Manulito  has  attempted  the  life 
of  his  brother  and  must  die." 

Saying  this,  he  jerked  his  tomahawk  from  his 
girdle  and  thrust  it  into  the  hands  of  the  hunter, 
dropped  on  one  knee,  and  bowed  his  head  to  re 
ceive  the  expected  blow.  The  hunter  was  at  first 
too  much  astonished  to  speak,  and  stepped  back 
with  the  uplifted  tomahawk,  as  if  in  a  trance ;  then, 
dropping  it,  shaded  his  eyes  in  horror  at  the  thought 
of  striking  a  defenceless  man. 


THE  CHALLENGE  AND   THE  DUEL.  25 

"Arise,  Manulito,"  said  he;  "not  now, — not 
now.  I  would  not  injure  a  man  except  in  self- 
defence.  The  traditions  of  your  tribe  may  require 
you  to  do  this,  but  I  cannot  permit  it.  You  shall 
have  a  chance  for  your  life,  a  chance  fair  and  equi 
table,  such  as  an  honorable  white  man  accords  his 
foe.  To-morrow  we  will  fight;  yes,  fight  to  the 
death.  And  when  the  sun  has  gone  to  rest,  one 
of  us,  perhaps  both,  will  be  in  the  presence  of  his 
Maker.  By  right,  you  are  entitled  to  the  choice 
of  weapons.  I  would  prefer  a  duel  in  the  open 
air;  to  meet  as  man  to  man,  and,  displaying  our 
strength  and  skill,  to  let  the  weaker  perish.  I  will 
not  insist  on  this;  but  to-morrow,  when  the  sun 
is  at  its  height  and  our  shadows  are  shortest  for 
the  day,  meet  me  in  Round  Grove.  The  forest  is 
broad  and  deep,  and  you  and  I  can  display  our 
woodcraft,  for  from  its  depths  one  of  us  will 
never  return  alive.  I  will  wage  war  with  you  then 
according  to  your  mode,  and  let  your  natural  cun 
ning  contend  against  mine,  and  the  result  will 
prove  if  I  have  profited  by  your,  instructions  and 
can  equal  an  Indian  in  his  element.  I  will  give  no 
quarter,  and  expect  no  mercy.  God  knows,  Man 
ulito,  I  loved  you  as  a  brother.  You  have  de 
ceived  me,  and,  as  those  who  were  the  dearest 
friends  become,  when  estranged,  the  bitterest  ene 
mies,  so  you  and  I  meet  in  the  grove  for  the  last 
time.  Am  I  not  fair  ?  And  have  I  not  the  right 
to  ask  this  meeting  ?" 


26  MANULITO. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  hunter's  speech,  the 
Indian  replied, — 

"  "When  the  Evil  Spirit  steals  into  the  heart  of 
the  red  man  the  poisoned  sting  seeks  his  brain, 
and  he  knows  not  what  he  does.  As  the  rivulet 
courses  down  the  mountain  and  gathers  force,  until 
the  stream  is  a  river  beyond  the  control  of  man,  so 
anger,  jealousy,  and  hate  course  from  the  heart  to 
the  brain,  and,  like  the  fuel  thrust  into  the  flame, 
burn  and  burn  until  the  heart  is  on  fire  and  the 
brain  runs  wild,  and  the  man  whose  body  is  pos 
sessed  by  the  Evil  Spirit  knows  not  what  he  does, 
and  seeks  to  harm  those  he  loves  best.  Manulito  is 
a  warrior," — as  he  said  this  he  dropped  his  rifle-stock 
on  the  floor  with  a  loud  noise, — "  and  as  a  warrior 
delights  to  fight,  to  seek,  and  to  kill.  His  father 
was  a  great  chief,  and  dwelt  on  the  banks  of  the 
Mississippi  for  many  years.  The  winters  came  and 
went,  the  Manitou  blessed  the  earth  with  game, 
with  corn,  and  the  river  was  alive  with  fish.  In 
the  council,  he  spoke,  and  his  words  were  as  sweet 
honey  and  full  of  wisdom ;  while  in  battle,  his  arm 
was  of  oak,  and  his  enemies  fled  like  squaws  at 
his  coming.  This  was  many  seasons  ago,  and  now 
Manulito  stands  alone,  the  last  one  of  a  tribe  that 
once  peopled  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi  as  the  pig 
eons  fill  the  woods.  The  Gray  Eagle  knows  that 
Manulito  hates  the  pale-face  race,  and  why  should 
he  not  ?  Where  are  his  brothers,  his  sisters,  his  tribe, 
his  lands?  Broken  and  destroyed  and  held  by 


THE  CHALLENGE  AND   THE  DUEL.  27 

those  who  came  with  fire-water  and  false  promises 
to  rob  them  of  the  lands  which  the  Great  Manitou 
gave  them  hundreds  of  years  before.  They  fled  be 
fore  the  pale-face  tribes,  and  sought  to  find  the  place 
where  the  sun  goes  down  to  rest  at  night,  hoping 
there  to  gain  peace,  and  to  hunt  as  in  years  gone 
by.  But,  like  the  warrior  on  the  trail,  or  the 
hound  following  the  wounded  deer,  the  pale  face 
forever  overtook  him.  Manulito  thought  never  to 
dwell  with  them ;  but  one  night,  when  the  frost- 
king  held  the  earth  and  the  winds  shrieked  through 
the  trees,  tired  and  cold  and  unable  to  go  farther, 
he  sank  into  the  snow  and  would  have  perished, 
but  was  saved  by  a  white  man.  For  many  moons 
he  dwelt  with  him ;  he  learned  to  read,  to  write,  to 
spell,  and  the  things  he  once  thought  made  squaws 
of  men  pleased  him  most.  But" — and  the  In 
dian  dropped  his  glance — "  he  learned  to  love  the 
fire-water  of  the  white  man."  Then,  as  if  some 
burden  was  on  his  mind,  he  gazed  intently  into  the 
fire,  and  continued,  "  It  shall  be  as  the  Gray  Eagle 
wishes,  and  to-morrow,  at  noon,  Manulito  will  be 
in  the  woods." 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  the  hunter ;  "  and  understand, 
you  are  to  seek  me,  and  I  will  you,  and  all  things 
shall  be  considered  fair,  whether  to  use  the  rifle, 
the  knife,  or  the  tomahawk." 

"  All  men  must  die,"  said  the  Indian,  "  but  no 
man  can  tell  when  his  time  will  come.  Should 
to-morrow  be  the  time  that  the  Great  Spirit  has 


28  MANULITO. 

Bet  for  Manulito  to  die,  he  asks  the  Gray  Eagle  to 
bury  him  in  his  blankets,  his  arms  at  his  side,  that 
he  may  drive  away  the  wild  beasts  in  his  journey 
to  the  Happy  Hunting-Grounds.  Manulito  will  be 
in  the  grove  at  noon."  Saying  this,  he  strode 
hastily  from  the  room. 

Left  alone,  the  hunter  sank  into  a  chair  and  tried 
to  collect  his  scattered  thoughts.  The  events  of 
the  entire  day  were  in  his  mind :  the  cowardly  act 
of  the  Indian,  and  then  again  his  willingness  to 
give  his  own  life  as  a  forfeit,  or  rather  to  atone  for 
the  attempted  crime.  He  knew  the  Indian  hated 
the  white  people,  although  he  had  so  many  times 
shown  a  deep  affection  for  him  and  his  dear  ones. 
He  had  felt  that  he  knew  the  Indian,  but  the  more 
he  thought  of  him  the  more  perplexed  he  was. 
He  felt  that  perhaps  he  was  too  bitter,  too  hasty 
in  insisting  upon  a  duel,  in  which  it  was  now  plain 
the  Indian  did  not  wish  to  engage.  He  did  not 
attribute  it  to  cowardice,  for  he  knew  too  well 
the  courage  of  Manulito,  and  knew  .he  scorned 
danger. 

Wearily  and  sorrowfully  he  sought  his  rest,  but 
his  eyes  did  not  close  in  sleep.  Long  before  the 
break  of  day  he  was  astir.  As  he  left  his  home 
that  morning  he  said  to  his  wife, — 

"  Hector  has  never  missed  following  a  trail.  To 
day,  at  noon,  unchain  him  and  tell  him  to  seek  his 
master." 

He  knew  the  dog  would  find  him,  living  or  dead, 


RECONCILIATION.  29 

and  would  return  home  for  help  or  guard  him  until 
discovered. 

How  bitter  the  parting  with  his  wife, — an  out 
ward  calm,  concealing  the  cruel  suffering  within ! 
Oh,  the  folly  of  a  duel !  To  heap  years  of  bitter 
suffering  on  innocent  heads  !  As  he  left  the  garden 
gate,  there  reached  his  ears  the  sound  of  a  mother's 
voice  blending  in  pathetic  harmony  with  her  child's, 
as  they  called  "  Good-by,  papa  dear ;  we  will  watch 
and  wait  for  you."  Love  makes  cowards  of  men, 
and  it  did  of  him.  He  longed  to  return  to  all 
that  was  near  and  dear  to  him,  but  honor  de 
manded  that  he  keep  his  word,  even  at  the  cost 
of  his  life. 


CHAPTER   III. 

KECONCILIATION. 

"  No  thought  of  flight, 
None  of  retreat,  no  unbecoming  deed 
That  argued  fear ;  each  on  himself  relied, 
As  only  in  his  arm  the  moment  lay 
Of  victory." 

MILTON. 

THE  day  was  perfect,  and  the  north  wind  gently 
moved  the  white  clouds  that  floated  above,  cling 
ing  to  the  ceiling  of  blue  in  the  distant  skies.  The 
long  walk  in  the  brisk  morning  air  refreshed  him, 

3* 


30  MANULITO. 

and  all  feelings  of  sadness  yielded  to  one  of  quiet 
determination.  Before  leaving  his  home  he  care 
fully  loaded  his  rifle,  and,  strangely  enough,  the 
first  hullet  he  took  from  his  pouch  was  the  one 
he  had  moulded  and  marked  with  his  initial  the 
night  before.  "A  life  for  a  life,"  thought  he, 
"  and  the  hullet  intended  for  me  shall  be  tried  at 
him."  But  he  changed  his  mind,  selected  one 
without  a  blemish,  and  put  the  marked  bullet 
again  in  his  pocket. 

As  the  sun  was  at  the  zenith  and  the  shadows 
proclaimed  the  hour  of  noon,  he  entered  the  woods. 
He  had  often  traversed  them,  and  knew  every  spot, 
but  now  the  air  seemed  oppressive,  and  he  felt  as  if 
he  were  in  a  place  where  death  stalked  abroad  and 
might  appear  at  any  moment.  He  watched  with 
unusual  caution,  and  his  rifle  was  in  position  to 
fire  instantly.  The  leaves  rustled  gently  to  the 
earth,  and  as  they  grated  against  those  remaining 
on  the  trees,  the  slight  sounds  caused  him  to  start 
in  expectancy.  Well  he  might,  since  one  false 
movement  might  cause  his  death,  for  he  had  pitted 
his  skill  against  that  of  a  child  of  the  forest. 

He  had  worked  slowly  and  with  extreme  caution 
for  perhaps  a  mile,  gazing  intently,  and  scrutinizing 
every  tree  and  bush  before  approaching  it.  So 
silently  did  he  proceed  that  the  birds  of  the  forest 
noted  not  his  approach.  A  flock  of  wild  turkeys 
ran  before  him,  and  the  gobbler,  with  arched  neck 
and  curved  wings,  strutted  within  twenty  yards  of 


RECONCILIATION.  31 

him;  then  again,  a  buck  and  two  does  browsed 
unsuspiciously  within  close  gunshot. 

As  the  time  passed  and  he  neither  saw  nor  heard 
anything  of  Manulito,  he  felt  the  necessity  of  greater 
caution  and  exercised  it.  He  must  have  been  in 
the  woods  an  hour,  when,  approaching  the  huge 
trunk  of  an  old  tree  which  had  been  blown  down, 
he  settled  quietly  between  its  branches.  As  he  sat 
there,  it  seemed  at  times  as  if  he  heard  pattering 
on  the  leaves;  in  front  of  him  the  "put-put"  of  a 
turkey  was  heard,  and  the  bird  stepped  plainly  into 
view.  While  watching  it  his  blood  ran  cold  in  his 
veins,  as  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him,  saying, — 

"  When  the  Eagle  is  weary  he  seeks  his  rest." 

He  knew  he  was  at  the  Indian's  mercy,  and  slowly 
turning  his  head,  saw  the  stalwart  form  of  Manulito 
standing  over  him  with  tomahawk  in  hand. 

"  The  Eagle  is  tired,"  continued  he,  "  and  alight 
ing  to  rest,  his  weariness  dulled  his  sight  and  closed 
his  ears.  The  Gray  Eagle  said  there  should  be  no 
mercy,  whether  with  tomahawk,  rifle,  or  knife.  As 
the  Gray  Eagle  sat  beside  this  tree,  Manulito  could 
have  touched  him  with  his  rifle  or  have  killed  him 
with  his  tomahawk,  but  the  Gray  Eagle  is  not  to 
die  by  the  rifle  or  the  tomahawk.  If  it  were  so, 
he  would  now  lie  still  in  death  with  his  skull  cleft 
in  twain.  But  the  Gray  Eagle  shall  fight  for  his 
life  as  the  white  man  fights,  face  to  face  with  his 
foe.  Come,"  said  he,  "  follow  me  to  the  open 
glade, — you  know  where  it  is ;  the  spot  where  we 


32  MANULITO. 

ate  our  first  venison.  It  was  there  we  sat  together 
and  at  night  shared  our  blankets.  Here  it  is  now." 

As  he  said  this,  they  stepped  into  a  beautiful 
grassy  plot,  surrounded  by  birch  and  willows,  while 
at  one  side  a  silvery  stream  rippled  along  with  half- 
suppressed  murmurs.  The  Indian  leaned  his  rifle 
against  a  tree,  laid  his  tomahawk  on  the  ground, 
and  said, — 

"  On  this  spot,  Gray  Eagle,  two  brothers  settle 
their  only  quarrel.  We  will  fight  with  knives,  and 
but  one  shall  live.  Should  Manulito  fall,  bury  him 
here,  but  sometimes  think  of  him,  and  of  the  happy 
hours  you  and  he  passed  together  in  the  woods  and 
bottom-land." 

As  the  Indian  finished,  he  threw  his  blanket  to 
the  ground,  drew  his  knife,  and  stepped  into  the 
middle  of  the  green,  awaiting  the  approach  of  his 
adversary.  The  hunter  drew  his  cap  tightly  on 
his  head,  and  with  knife  in  hand,  stepped  into  the 
opening.  The  hunter  was  the  taller  of  the  two, 
with  longer  arms,  but  his  strength  was  concealed 
beneath  his  tight-fitting  buckskin  shirt,  which 
seemed  strained  to  bursting  as  his  arms  moved  up 
and  down.  The  sun  shone  brightly  on  the  Indian, 
and  the  copper  skin  of  his  massive  arms  and 
shoulders  glistened  in  the  light. 

They  eyed  one  another  with  deep  attention,  each 
watching  for  some  weak  point  of  attack,  but  none 
could  be  discovered.  The  Indian  was  apparently 
on  the  defensive.  They  seemed  like  two  human 


RECONCILIATION.  33 

tigers  thirsting  for  blood,  each  recognizing  the 
bravery  and  skill  of  the  other.  For  fully  ten 
minutes  they  tried  for  an  opening,  yet  neither 
spoke  a  word,  each  feeling  that  he  needed  all  his 
strength  and  breath  in  the  final  struggle.  At  last, 
as  if  intending  to  test  his  adversary,  the  hunter 
rushed  forward,  and  before  the  Indian  could  strike, 
sprang  back  with  the  agility  of  a  deer.  The  Indian 
did  not  attempt  to  follow  him  up;  this  was  re 
peated  again,  then  again,  until  the  hunter  said, — 

"  Must  the  Eagle  swoop  down  on  the  Wolf  and 
return  without  a  bite  ?" 

The  Indian  did  not  reply,  but  clinched  his  knife 
with  a  firmer  hold,  which  plainly  indicated  his  de 
cision.  As  he  advanced  the  hunter  slowly  retreated ; 
the  Indian  circled  round  as  if  ready  to  spring, 
but  the  other  saw  his  opportunity,  and  was  about 
to  strike,  when  he  found  Manulito  in  his  presence 
unarmed,  for  as  he  rushed  forward,  the  Indian, 
with  a  quick  flirt,  threw  his  knife  into  the  woods, 
and  stood  before  him  with  bared  breast  and  folded 
arms.  The  hunter's  uplifted  arm  quivered  and  fell 
powerless  at  his  side,  for  he  could  not  strike  a  cow 
ardly  blow  on  this  defenceless  man,  and  stepping 
back,  he  said  in  surprise, — 

"  Did  not  Manulito  want  to  fight  with  knives  ?" 

The  Indian  replied,  "  My  tribe  is  gone,  Manulito 
is  alone,  and  the  only  friend  he  ever  had  among 
the  whites  stands  before  him.  Yesterday,  when  at 
the  village,  he  drank  fire-water  until  the  sky  and 


34  MANUL1TO. 

trees  danced  before  his  eyes.  The  village  boys" 
said  he  was  a  squaw,  he  could  not  shoot,  he  could 
not  hunt  because  his  footsteps  were  heavy  and 
he  frightened  the  deer.  Gray  Eagle  is  a  mighty 
hunter,  said  they,  and  kills  all  the  deer.  They 
laughed  at  Manulito,  and  stoned  his  dog.  Bitter 
were  his  thoughts,  and  murder  was  in  his  heart. 
He  fled  from  the  village,  his  sight  was  blinded,  his 
heart  called  for  revenge,  and  the  fire-water  burned 
his  body  and  set  fire  to  his  brain.  The  Evil  Spirit 
whispered  in  his  ear,  l  The  Gray  Eagle  !  the  Gray 
Eagle !  He  is  the  one  who  has  caused  all  this  !' 
Arid  while  the  heart  of  Manulito  was  filled  with 
anger,  and  he  walked  almost  like  a  blind  man 
through  the  woods,  he  saw  his  friend,  and  prompted 
by  the  Evil  Spirit,  raised  his  gun  and  fired.  Then 
he  fled,  for  he  realized  his  cowardly  and  jealous 
act,  and  that  night  when  the  Gray  Eagle  returned 
to  his  lodge,  and  Manulito  saw  he  was  unhurt,  he 
thanked  the  Great  Manitou  for  saving  him,  for  the 
Evil  Spirit  had  fled,  and  again  Manulito  loved  the 
Gray  Eagle  better  than  his  life.  When  my  white 
brother  spoke  and  told  his  story,  the  story  of  the 
stormy  night,  it  burned  into  the  heart  of  Manulito 
like  the  molten  lead  when  the  bullets  are  cast. 
The  laws  of  his  tribe  demand  that  an  attempted 
crime  on  a  brother  must  be  punished  with  death. 
His  life  was  offered  you  last  night,  but  you  refused 
to  take  it.  To-day  it  is  yours,  but  not  one  hair  of 
your  head  would  Manulito  injure.  He  is  ready  to 


RECONCILIATION.  35 

die,  for  he  has  told  all  to  his  brother,  and  the  trail 
to  the  Happy  Hunting-Grounds  is  broad  and  open. 
"When  the  summer  days  of  the  white  chief  are 
passed,  and  the  frosts  of  old  age  have  whitened 
his  head,  he  too  must  die,  but  in  the  arms  of  his 
friends,  and  long  after  his  silver  tongue  has  moved 
to  anger  or  melted  to  tears  the  tribes  of  his  nation. 
Manulito  is  ready  to  die." 

The  hunter  was  deeply  touched  at  this  recital, 
for  he  saw  now  that  it  was  only  because  he  was 
insane  with  jealousy  and  crazed  with  liquor  that 
the  Indian  had  attempted  his  life.  He  took  him 
gently  by  the  hand,  bade  him  be  seated  on  the 
grass,  and  said, — 

"  I,  too,  have  been  hasty,  and  sought  to  enter 
into  a  conflict  with  you  to-day  that  meant  death  to 
one  or  both  of  us.  You  were  too  brave,  too  proud, 
to  explain  last  night,  but  deliberately  met  me  here, 
intending  to  cast  your  life  away  and  die  by  my  hand, 
leading  me  to  think  it  was  a  contest,  and  not  a 
murder  on  my  part.  We  have  both  been  wrong, 
and  here  in  your  presence,  I  say,  I  forgive  you 
freely  and  fully,  as  freely  and  unconditionally  as  I 
hope  my  sins  will  be  forgiven  in  the  world  to  come. 
A  wound  does  not  quickly  heal  by  being  torn  apart, 
but  the  salve  must  do  its  work,  and  with  us,  we 
will  forgive  and  try  to  forget.  What  has  happened, 
— let  it  be  between  you  and  me.  It  does  not  con 
cern  the  world,  and  no  man  shall  know  of  it  during 
your  life.  And  now,  Manulito,"  said  he,  as  he 


36  MANULITO. 

looked  tenderly  into  his  face,  "  while  I  live  my 
home  shall  be  open  to  you.  In  the  lodge  of  the 
Gray  Eagle  there  will  always  be  food  and  blankets 
for  his  friend,  and  I  will  be  your  brother,  and  we 
will  hunt  and  fish  together  as  we  have  for  years. 
Then  should  you  be  called  to  the  Happy  Hunting- 
Grounds  first,  at  your  grave  will  I  stand  and  mourn 
for  my  red  brother.  Perhaps," — and  his  eyes  as 
sumed  a  far-away,  thoughtful  expression, — "per 
haps,  with  your  spirit  in  the  land  of  your  God,  you 
can  look  down  and  see  me  weep  for  you,  for  I  have 
sometimes  wondered  if  those  in  heaven  could  not 
look  down  on  earth  and  see  us  weeping  over  the 
grave  of  some  dear,  dead  friend." 

As  he  finished,  he  slipped  into  the  Indian's  hand 
the  marked  bullet.  Manulito  proudly  raised  his 
head,  and  laying  his  hand  gently  in  the  hand  of 
the  hunter,  said, — 

"  The  south  wind  in  the  spring-time  breathes 
new  life  into  the  departed  year,  and  sweeter  than 
the  songs  of  the  thrush  or  the  perfume  of  the  lily 
are  the  words  of  his  brother  to  Manulito.  Like 
the  voices  of  his  father  and  brothers  who  will 
greet  him  on  the  prairies  of  the  Happy  Hunting- 
Grounds,  and  bid  him  enter  and  hunt  for  evermore, 
so  are  the  words  of  friendship  and  forgiveness  that 
my  brother  gives  to  me.  From  this  day,  whether 
Manulito  is  on  the  prairie,  or  in  the  village,  or  sick 
in  the  medicine  lodge,  no  fire-water  shall  ever  again 
pass  between  his  lips,  and  Manulito  hopes  that  in 


RECONCILIATION.  37 

years  to  come,  some  time,  the  Great  Spirit  will  let 
him  save  the  life  he  sought  to  take." 

At  this  moment  a  gray  form  shot  through  an 
opening,  and  in  an  instant  Hector  bounded  before 
his  master,  and  joyfully  licked  his  hand  as  he  lay 
down  and  whined  at  the  hunter's  feet. 

From  the  farm-house  to  the  village  the  hunter 
had  moved,  and  with  him  his  Indian  friend.  One 
day  the  hunter's  wife  said  to  her  husband, — 

"For  more  than  a  year  I  have  noticed  such  a 
change  in  Manulito.  He  idolizes  you,  and  to  me 
and  the  babies  he  is  as  affectionate  as  a  woman. 
He  takes  advantage  of  every  opportunity  to  do 
some  little  act  that  will  show  his  love  for  us,  and 
often  when  you  go  in  pursuit  of  deer  he  steals 
silently  from  the  house,  and  at  times  I  think  he 
follows  you  lest,  if  an  accident  should  befall  you, 
he  might  not  be  near  to  render  you  aid.  I  some 
times  wish  you  would  quit  hunting,  for  since  the 
sad  death  of  poor  brother  Harry  I  cannot  look  at 
a  rifle  without  thinking  of  him.  To  be  sure,  he 
was  thoughtless  in  sounding  the  ice  with  the  butt 
of  his  gun,  but  maybe  all  hunters  at  times  do 
thoughtless  things,  and  when  no  accident  occurs, 
think  nothing  of  it." 

"  Why,  bless  your  sweet  heart !"  exclaimed  Wel 
lington, — for  he  will  hereafter  be  known  by  this 
name, — "  borrowing  trouble  ?  One-half  of  all  the 
ills  flesh  is  heir  to  are  imaginary.  You  know  I 

4 


38  MANULITO. 

am  careful,  and  what  would  our  good  people  do  if 
I  did  not  hunt?  Why,  last  winter  I  know  that 
half  the  fresh  meat  brought  to  this  village  fell  to 
my  gun.  And  now,"  said  he,  and  his  handsome 
face  brightened  with  a  smile,  "  they  say  I  hunt  for 
a  living  and  practise  law  for  fun.  Well,  I  don't 
know  which  I  enjoy  more,  but  I  believe  I  like  them 
both  so  well  that — well,  I  will  stick  to  my  books." 

"  Unless,"  she  said,  "  some  person  enters  your 
office  and  tells  some  wild  story  of  seeing  the  track 
of  the  much-hunted  but  never-captured  big  buck." 

He  laughed  and  said,  "I  won't  discuss  the  matter 
with  you,  for  you  know  my  weakness,  and  it  would 
be  foolish  for  me  to  provoke  a  discussion,  or  say 
anything  of  which  my  past  life  would  be  a  denial. 
But,"  continued  he,  "  it  does  seem  strange  that 
with  all  the  hunting  I  have  done,  and  all  the  ex 
perience  I  have  had,  I  have  never  seen  and  can 
never  strike  the  trail  of  this  much-coveted  big 
buck.  I  have  hunted  every  foot  of  ground  within 
a  hundred  miles  of  here,  in  all  directions,  and  have 
gone  to  places  where  he  has  been  seen,  but  to  me 
he  is  an  ignis  fatuus." 

"  A  charmed  beast,"  jokingly  responded  his  wife; 
"but  possibly,  some  day  when  least  expected,  he 
will  appear  to  you,  and  if  he  does,"  and  she  looked 
at  him  with  confident  affection,  "  I  am  afraid  it  will 
be  his  last  day  in  the  woods." 

The  next  morning  Wellington  was  up  bright 
and  early,  and  before  many  of  the  villagers  were 


RECONCILIATION.  39 

astir  was  at  lus  office.  It  was  the  day  before 
Christmas,  and  as  he  walked  briskly  along,  the 
perfect  morning  filled  his  soul  with  delight.  It 
hardly  seemed  the  month  of  December,  for  the 
autumn  had  been  so  pleasant,  and  winter  had 
hesitated  so  long  in  his  coming,  that  it  seemed 
more  like  early  November.  The  sun  had  not  yet 
risen,  and  the  quiet  village  was  scarcely  astir.  The 
noisy  dogs  barked  at  intervals,  and  the  white  smoke 
lazily  ascended  from  a  few  chimneys.  Not  the 
slightest  wind  prevailed.  There  was  no  snow  on 
the  ground,  and  as  Wellington  walked  along,  his 
footsteps  left  a  perfect  impress  in  the  flaky  frost 
which  had  covered  the  ground. 

By  this  time  the  sun  rose  as  if  from  the  long 
grass,  and  a  flock  of  prairie-chickens  sailed  grace 
fully  over  the  village  in  their  morning  flight. 

He  was  soon  in  his  office  and  had  a  roaring  fire 
in  the  old-fashioned  fireplace,  which  seemed  almost 
as  wide  as  the  room.  The  furniture  was  rather 
primitive  in  design  and  construction.  There  were 
a  few  chairs,  carved  and  scarred  by  the  knives 
of  thoughtless  callers  or  clients,  and  a  table  of 
pine,  made  by  Wellington  himself.  His  pens  and 
holders  were  from  the  quills  of  the  wild  goose. 
His  library,  however,  was  quite  complete,  with 
Blackstone,  Chitty,  and  the  English  Reports.  As 
he  searched  these  authorities,  making  a  brief  on 
some  case,  his  pen  glided  easily  over  the  fools 
cap,  jotting  down  his  points  and  making  that 


40  MANULITO. 

peculiar  sound  which,  once  heard,  can  never  be 
forgotten. 

He  sat  back  in  his  chair,  put  his  feet  on  the  table, 
and  dived  deep  into  the  contents  of  the  dingy 
yellow  volumes.  Soon  the  door  quietly  opened, 
and  in  stalked  Manulito,  who  gruffly  bowed,  seated 
himself  before  the  fire,  and  drew  his  blanket  over 
his  shoulders.  The. lawyer  studied  and  the  Indian 
stared  into  the  fire,  each  apparently  oblivious  of 
the  presence  of  the  other.  Their  dogs  were  more 
companionable,  however,  for  they  wagged  their 
greeting  and  occasionally  beat  a  tattoo  of  welcome 
with  their  tails  on  the  bare  floor.  The  silence  was 
broken  by  a  familiar  voice  from  without.  The 
Indian  looked  up  in  disgust  and  drew  his  blanket 
more  closely  over  his  shoulders,  while  the  lawyer 
smiled  and  laid  down  his  book. 

"  Whoa !  Consarn  ye  !  Whoa  !  Consarn  ye  ! 
Can't  ye  stand  still,  ye  tarnal  critters  ?  Say,  Bill, 
why  don't  ye  come  out  an'  help  a  feller  ?" 

The  lawyer  was  about  to  comply  when  the  door 
opened  and  in  walked  the  questioner.  He  was  a 
man  short  of  stature,  with  a  grizzly,  stubby  beard, 
whose  whiteness  was  sadly  discolored  by  tobacco 
juice.  He  wore  a  cap  made  of  coon-skins,  a  faded 
yellowish-brown  overcoat,  belted  round  the  waist 
with  a  leather  strap,  shoes  of  buffalo-skin,  and  in 
his  hand  held  a  whip  with  a  short  handle  and  a 
long  lash. 

As  he  entered  the  door  he  greeted  the  lawyer 


RECONCILIATION.  41 

uproariously,  and  continued  to  laugh  as  if  at  some 
thing  irresistibly  funny. 

"  Oh,  Bill !"  said  he,  "  you  would  have  hurt  your 
self  if  you  had  seen  the  fun  me  an'  thet  steer  had." 
And  then  he  laughed  again  and  slapped  his  knee  in 
his  merriment.  "  Why,  the  confounded  critter  was 
goin'  ter  foller  me  plumb  into  your  offis.  You  see, 
he  ain't  never  been  ter  town  afore,  an'  he's  jes'  as 
green  as  grass  an'  don't  know  nothin'.  I  allus 
liked  the  critter,  an'  this  mornin'  I  says  ter  the  ole 
woman,  l  Mother,  I  b'lieve  I'll  go  ter  town  an'  take 
Wellington  a  load  of  wood.'  '  Do,  Kirtley,'  says 
she,  '  an'  hitch  Rube' — Rube  is  this  green  ox — 
'  long-side  of  ole  Jerry.  He's  kinder  fond  of  you, 
an'  'sides  you  can  break  him  in  ter  yoke.'  So  I 
loads  up  the  wood  an'  hitches  up  the  oxen,  an' 
here  I  be.  Well,  thet  tarnal  critter  was  jes'  like 
a  green  country  boy,  an'  ev'rything  was  new  ter 
him.  I  didn't  hev  no  trouble  with  him,  'cause  when 
he  kinder  hes'tated-like,  ole  Jerry  jes'  snatched  him 
right  along.  Well,  when  I  arrove  in  front  your 
offis  an'  started  in,  I'm  blowed  if  Rube  didn't  try 
ter  follow  me  in,  wagon  an'  all."  Then,  at  the 
thought  of  it,  the  old  man  laughed  immoderately. 
"  Say,  Bill,  I  ought  ter  hev  paid  yer  some  money 
afore  this,  but  times  is  dull  an'  my  corn  didn't  pan 
out  well,  the  hogs  got  the  cholera,  two  of  the  cows 
went  dry,  an'  it  made  me  an'  the  ole  woman 
kinder  hard  up  for  cash,  but  you  can  burn  wood, 
Bill,  an'  I  bro't  you  as  nice  a  load  as  ever  was 


42  MANULITO. 

chopped, — hick'ry  an'  white  oak, — an',  Bill,  I  hope 
afore  long  ter  squar'  up  with  you  complete." 

They  were  on  the  most  familiar  terms,  these  two 
men,  lawyer  and  client,  for  while  Kirtley  was  not 
exactly  quarrelsome,  still  a  lawsuit  lacked  its  flavor 
in  this  settlement  if  he  was  not  either  plaintiff  or 
defendant. 

The  old  man  seated  himself  at  the  table  opposite 
the  lawyer,  and,  slyly  curving  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder  at  the  listless  Indian,  said, — 

"  Don't  you  sometimes  feel,  Bill,  that  two  is 
company  an'  three's  a  crowd  ?" 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Wellington;  "  Manulito  don't 
care  for  our  talk.  Besides,  he  can  keep  a  secret." 

"  Mebbe  so,  mebbe  so,"  said  his  visitor ;  "  but, 
Bill,  you  an'  me  is  different.  I've  lived  in  these 
parts  many  years, — yes,  years  afore  you  come  West, 
— an'  I  ain't  yet  seen  no  good  comin'  of  an  Injun. 
An  Injun  is  an  Injun  an'  allus  will  be.  I  won't 
say  they  will  allus  steal,  'cause  they  don't  allus  get 
the  chance.  But  when  I  sees  one  loafin'  round  my 
cl'arin',  I  can't  help  but  feel  that  my  chickens  ought 
ter  roost  high." 

"  The  trouble  is,  Kirtley,  you  are  prejudiced,  and 
can  see  nothing  good  in  an  Indian.  You  can  feel 
free  to  slander  the  Indians  in  the  presence  of  Man 
ulito,  for  he  respects  your  age  and  will  not  resent 
it." 

Manulito  looked  up  and  said,  "  The  words  of  the 
gray  head  are  like  the  rain-drops  on  the  lodge  of 


RECONCILIATION.  43 

the  warrior, — they  make  much  noise  but  do  no 
harm.  The  gray  head  is  like  a  squaw ;  he  likes  to 
talk,  for  it  does  him  much  good  and  injures  no  one." 

"Bah!  on  your  smooth  words,"  said  Kirtley, 
turning  from  the  Indian  in  disgust.  "  A  smooth 
tongued  Fox  once  stopped  at  my  house  and  got 
on  the  good  side  of  the  ole  woman  with  his  fine 
speech.  She  thought  him  such  a  nice  Injun.  He 
was  a  good  judge  of  hoss-flesh,  anyhow,  for  next 
mornin'  he  didn't  come  ter  breakfus',  an'  he  took 
with  him  the  best  pa'r  of  bosses  thet  ever  forded 
the  Wapsie.  Wot's  goin'  on  in  town  ter-morrer  ? 
Shootm'-match  ?  I  heerd  tell,  as  I  was  waterin'  the 
critters  at  the  trough,  thet  thar  was  goin'  ter  be  a 
shoot  on  Christmas,  an'  thet's  ter-morrer;  but  thinks 
I  to  myself,  if  thar  be  a  shoot  ter-morrer,  it  will 
hev  to  go  on  without  the  best  shot  in  these  parts 
bein'  thar.  'Cause  why?  'Cause,  Bill,  you  is  goin' 
with  me." 

"  Going  with  you  ?"  asked  Wellington,  in  aston 
ishment. 

"  Yaas,  goin'  with  me."  And  then  he  placed  his 
hand  to  shield  his  voice  from  the  Indian,  leaned 
over  the  table,  and  cautiously  said,  "  I  hev  seed  him 
twic'd !" 

"  Seen  him  twice  ?"  queried  Wellington.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean,"  said  he,  "  that  within  the  last  two 
days  I  hev  seed  the  big  buck  twic'd,  an'  both  times 
at  the  same  place." 


44  MANUL1TO. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

OLD    MAN   KIRTLEY. 

"  Fields,  woods,  and  streams, 
Each  tow'ring  hill,  each  humble  vale  below, 
Shall  hear  my  cheering  voice  ;  my  hounds  shall  wake 
The  lazy  morn,  and  glad  th'  horizon  round." 

SOMERVILLE. 

"I  DON'T  know  what  to  think,  Kirtley;  but  so 
many  have  told  me  of  seeing  this  buck,  which 
seems  to  bear  a  charmed  life,  that  I  always  feel 
when  I  hope  to  find  him  that  I  will  be  doomed  to 
disappointment.  But  tell  us  where  you  saw  him." 

The  old  man  rested  his  arm  on  the  table,  bit  off 
a  big  chunk  of  tobacco,  and  said, — 

"  The  fust  time  was  day  afore  yesterday.  The 
hogs  hed  broke  out,  an',  es  the  wolves  air  gettin' 
kind  o'  thick  in  the  timber,  I  went  ter  look  'em  up. 
I  started  airly  in  the  mornin',  an'  tramped  an' 
tramped  till  my  old  legs  said  i  Rest !'  Yer  know 
I'm  bothered  with  the  rheumatiz,  an'  can't  tramp 
like  I  could  onc't.  My  dog  was  with  me,  an'  I  tuk 
out  my  lunch  an'  sot  down  by  a  log  thet  was  down 
by  the  south  ford ;  yer  both  know  the  place,  jes' 
whar  the  sand-bar  is,  whar  the  eddy  is,  whar  I  seed 
you  two  fishin'  two  years  ago, — you  know  whar, 
jes'  about  ten  rods  above  the  cattle  ford.  All  at 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEY.  45 

onc't  the  dog  gave  a  low  whine,  then  growled.  I 
looked  up,  but  saw  nothin'.  Then  I  looked  ag'in, 
an',  Lawd !  Bill,  if  thar,  right  in  gunshot,  wasn't 
the  biggest  buck  I  ever  laid  my  eyes  on,  an'  I  hev 
been  here  fur  twenty  years.  Fust  I  thought  it  was 
an  elk,  he  looked  so  big.  An'  what  do  you  think  ? 
I'm  blowed  if  I  hed  a  gun !  How  I  wished  fur 
you,  'cause  I  know'd  your  heart  is  sot  on  gettin' 
him.  Well,  he  didn't  see  me,  but  stood  on  the 
bank  an'  looked  up  and  down  es  if  he  hed  lost 
somethin',  or  was  afeard  some  one  was  lookin'  fur 
him,  then  he  waded  inter  the  Wapsie,  an'  come 
straight  across  at  the  foot  of  the  bar.  I  j  es'  kep'  still. 
Gosh !  but  he  was  a  big  feller,  an'  his  left  horn  was 
broke  off  near  the  tip,  an'  his  face  an'  head  looked 
kinder  gray-like.  He  come  straight  on,  an'  waded 
up,  then  climbed  the  bank  within  twenty  feet  of 
me.  I  ain't  no  coward,  but  somehow  I  felt  kind  o' 
scairt,  fur  the  brute  looked  powerful  ugly.  The 
dog  got  brave,  an'  I  said  '  Sick  'im !'  Well,  he 
did  i  sick  'im,'  but  thet  buck  jumped  about  four 
teen  feet  one  side  when  he  first  saw  the  dog,  then 
the  next  thing  I  seed,  the  dog  was  about  ten  feet  in 
the  air,  an'  the  buck  stood  waitin'  fur  him  ter  come 
down.  When  he  did,  he  went  up  ag'in,  then 
landed  in  the  river.  I  stepped  out,  an'  when  the 
buck  saw  me  his  eyes  looked  es  big  es  saucers,  his 
horns  seemed  ter  kinder  grow  sharp,  his  hair  riz,  he 
stamped  and  snorted  es  though  he  tho't  I  wanted 
ter  fight,  an'  thinks  I  ter  myself,  <  Kirtley,  yer  hevn't 


46  MANULITO. 

got  no  gtfn,  an'  yer  hev  got  a  big  family.  Yer 
ain't  lost  no  buck,  you  air  lookin'  fur  your  stray 
hogs.'  So  I  jes'  got  behind  a  tree,  an'  the  buck 
walked  away,  all  the  time  lookin'  out  the  corner 
of  his  eye  at  me.  Then  he  started  inter  a  trot, 
an'  I  waved  my  hat  at  him  an'  hoped  ter  meet  him 
ag'in  when  I  hed  a  rifle,  an  axe,  a  Bowie-knife,  an' 
you  an'  the  Injun  with  me." 

Wellington  laughed  as  he  thought  of  his  friend's 
plight,  but  Manulito  drew  his  chair  nearer  and  let 
not  a  word  escape  him. 

"  That  was  the  fust  time,"  continued  Kirtley. 
"  The  second  time  was  yesterday.  I  got  my  gun  in 
the  mornin'  an'  tho't  I  would  lay  for  his  buckship, 
an'  I  felt  kinder  proud  ter  think  that  I  was  goin'  ter 
be  the  one  ter  kill  the  buck,  an'  I  pictered  in  my 
mind  how  cheap  you  an'  the  Injun  would  feel  ter 
hev  me  come  ter  town  with  the  animile,  an'  hev 
all  the  boys  crowd  'round  an'  congratulate  me,  an' 
shake  hands  with  me,  an'  thet  sorter  thing.  But, 
drat  the  luck !  When  I  come  ter  start  thar  wasn't 
a  bullet  in  the  house,  an'  I  couldn't  find  the  moulds. 
Now,  I  was  mad ;  but  I  was  ready  ter  go,  an'  go  it 
was.  I  didn't  hide  in  jes7  the  same  place,  but  I 
got  where  the  buck  couldn't  scent  me,  an'  then  hid. 
He  didn't  come  on  time  ter  the  ford,  but  come 
he  did  at  last,  an'  acted  kinder  timid-like.  He 
looked,  an'  sniffed,  an'  acted  mighty  cautious, 
then  hurried  across,  an'  soon  es  he  struck  the  bank 
trotted  off.  I  didn't  make  any  noise,  so  he  didn't 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEY.  47 

know  I  seed  him.  Arter  lie  was  gone,  I  went  ter 
the  bank  an7  looked  at  his  tracks.  Big?  They 
were  es  big  es  a  cow's  an'  lots  of  Jem.  I  jes5 
quietly  come  home,  said  nothin'  ter  nobody,  an' 
bro't  this  load  of  wood  es  a  blind.  Now,  I  hev 
told  yer  whar  the  brute  is  hidin',  an'  if  yer  don't 
want  ter  go,  I'll  try  him  myself." 

"  Go !  said  Wellington.  "  I  wouldn't  miss  the 
chance  for  a  farm.  You  have  struck  his  runway, 
and  he  will  show  up  again.  If  I  am  alive  and  well 
I  will  be  at  your  house  to-morrow  morning  before 
daybreak,  but  not  alone,  for  Manulito  will  go  with 
me." 

"  The  Gray  Eagle  needs  no  help  to  kill  the  buck," 
replied  the  Indian.  "His  footsteps  are  light,  his 
aim  sure." 

"  But  perhaps  you  will  be  favored  with  a  shot," 
replied  Wellington.  "  Have  you  ever  seen  this 
buck,  or  struck  his  trail  ?" 

"  Ugh !  two  years  ago,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Elk 
River,  when  Manulito  was  on  the  trail  of  another 
deer,  he  saw,  away  up  the  stream,  this  big  buck, — 
too  far  to  shoot.  He  followed  the  trail  three  days, 
sleeping  at  night  wherever  the  darkness  overtook 
him, — through  the  bottom-land,  over  the  bluffs,  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Maquoketa,  then  through  the 
timber  until  he  reached  the  land  of  the  Lost  Na 
tion,  but  did  not  get  a  shot.  Another  time  he  saw 
the  big  footprints  on  the  sand  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Meredosia,  and  followed  the  trail  along  the  river  as 


48  MANULITO. 

far  as  the  Rock  "River,  then  across  the  Meredosia 
to  the  Mississippi,  and  struck  its  trail  in  the  land 
of  the  lowas,  but  lost  it  again  on  the  Wapsie  bot 
toms." 

As  the  Indian  finished,  Wellington  said, — 

"Let  us  hope  that  to-morrow  we  will  be  more 
fortunate,  and  capture  this  charmed  buck.  But 
one  thing  I  regret,  that  Hector  cannot  go  with  me. 
He  is  too  lame,  and  his  shoulder  hasn't  healed  from 
the  cut  he  received  in  his  last  fight  with  that  four- 
pronged  buck.  But  Ben  can  go ;  he  is  young  but 
courageous,  and  will  be  all  right." 

Kirtley  arose  to  depart,  saying,  "  Airly  in  the 
mornin',  Bill,  we'll  look  fur  yer  at  my  cabin.  The 
ole  woman  thinks  es  much  of  you  es  she  does  of 
her  own  boys,  an'  yer  will  find  suthin'  hot  ter  drink 
an'  suthin'  good  ter  eat  waitin'  fur  yer  at  the 
clearin'." 

As  he  left  the  door,  he  turned  again  and  said, 
"  Don't  furgit  ter  come  airly,  Bill,  fur  me  an'  the 
ole  woman  will  be  a- waitin'  an'  a-watchin'  fur  ye." 

Wellington  tried  to  induce  the  Indian  to  go  with 
him,  but  he  replied, — 

"  Twice  has  Manulito  been  on  the  trail,  but  lost 
it.  Let  the  Eagle  try." 

Next  morning,  long  before  the  break  of  day,  the 
hunter  was  prepared  to  start.  It  was  a  tramp  of 
four  miles  to  Kirtley's  home,  and  as  he  bade  his 
wife  good-by  she  tenderly  clung  to  him,  loath  to 
have  him  go,  and  said, — 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEY.  49 

"  Last  night,  "Will,  I  dreamed  of  brother  Harry, 
and  saw  him  just  as  I  see  you  now,  light-hearted, 
active,  and  merry.  It  was  a  happy  dream,  for  the 
past  was  hidden  from  me.  I  awoke,  and — and — 
oh,  Will !  I  could  not  help  feeling,  although  I 
fought  against  it,  that  some  evil  would  befall  you 
to-day.  Don't  think  me  foolish,  but  I  have  had 
one  dear  one  accidentally  killed  while  hunting,  and 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  harm  to  you." 

"  Why,  darling,"  said  he,  "  dreams  always  go  by 
contraries.  To  dream  of  evil  to  me  means  I  will 
have  good  luck,  and  so  I  believe  I  will.  Dry  your 
tears,  and,  if  weep  you  must,  then  wait  until  I 
return,  and  let  them  be  tears  of  joy." 

He  kissed  her  good-by  and  stepped  out  into  the 
frosty  air,  while  the  twinkling  stars  feebly  lit  his 
pathway.  Before  the  break  of  day  he,  with  Ben 
at  bis  side,  stood  at  the  door  of  Kirtley's  dwelling 
in  the  clearing.  He  received  a  hearty  welcome 
from  the  master  of  the  house,  while  the  good 
woman  shook  both  hands,  gazed  at  him  fondly, 
and  cried, — 

"  Oh,  but  I  be  glad  ter  see  you,  Will !  You  don't 
know  how  glad  I  be.  You  jes'  ought  ter  be  'shamed 
of  yourself  not  ter  drap  in  on  us  oftener.  But  I 
s'pose,"  and  she  drew  herself  up  with  assumed 
dignity,  "  thet  sence  tbey  is  goin'  ter  make  you 
jedge  you  hev  kinder  forgit  your  ole  frien's ;  but 
we  ain't  goin'  ter  allow  you  ter  forgit  us,  be  we, 
pap  ?"  And  she  looked  to  Kirtley  for  an  answer, 
c  d  6 


50  MANULITO. 

"  Not  by  a  jug-full,"  replied  that  worthy.  "  Bill 
an'  me  understand  one  'nother.  Bill  knows  we  ain't 
much  fur  style,  but  our  hairts  is  right,  eh,  Bill?" 

Wellington  laid  his  hand  tenderly  on  the  good 
woman's  arm,  and  said, — 

"  Mother,  you  have  known  me  too  long  to  think 
that  any  honors  I  might  receive  would  lessen  my 
love  for  you  and  my  dear  old  friend  beside  me. 
Don't  think  of  that,  but  remember,  whatever  I  may 
be,  to  me  you  will  ever  be  Mother  Kirtley,  and  to 
you,"  said  he,  turning  to  Kirtley,  "I  will  always 
be " 

"  Bill !"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  struck  his  fist  on 
the  table. 

As  the  sun  rose  and  the  leaden  sky  turned  to  a 
golden  yellow  in  the  east,  Wellington  and  Kirtley 
left  the  house.  The  reflection  of  the  sky  on  the 
water  in  a  pond  near  the  house  attracted  the 
hunter's  attention,  and  he  said, — 

"  See,  Kirtley,  how  beautiful  the  water  is.  It 
looks  like  a  mirror,  and  draws  from  the  sky  its 
beautiful  colors  of  gold  and  crimson  and  blue, 
and  out  there  at  the  northern  edge  it  merges  into 
a  rich  carmine,  a  rosy  red." 

"Yaas,  Bill,"  replied  his  companion,  "them 
colors  is  all  right,  an'  the  pond  looks  purty,  es  yer 
say,  but  jes'  es  yer  spoke  I  wasn't  ezzactly  thinkin' 
of  thet,  but  I  was  thinkin'  w'at  a  good  place  it 
would  be  fur  the  hogs  ter  waller  in,  or  the  critters 
ter  stan'  in  an'  fight  flies  next  summer." 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEY.  51 

Wellington  laughed,  and  said,  "  If  I  am  poetical, 
you  are  certainly  practical,  Kirtley." 

A  short  walk  brought  them  to  the  banks  of  the 
Wapsie,  a  crooked,  meandering  stream,  which 
flowed  in  uncertain  directions  its  entire  length. 
The  river  was  low,  and  the  current  passed  along 
this  quiet  morning  in  sleepy  languor.  During  the 
rainy  season,  or  when  the  snow  melted  at  the  break 
ing  up  of  winter,  it  soon  overflowed  its  confined 
banks,  and  spread,  like  a  pestilence,  no  one  knew 
to  what  limits.  But  the  spring-time  had  departed, 
and  with  it  the  high  water.  The  autumn  had  been 
dry,  and  the  crooked  stream  with  its  stranded  logs, 
its  drooping  trees  with  roots  clinging  to  the  banks, 
and  its  great  sand-bars,  seemed  stripped  of  its  power, 
and  caused  the  beholder  to  look  on  its  bed  with 
indifference. 

As  "Wellington  and  his  companion  walked  speed 
ily  along,  the  latter  said, — 

"  Be  yer  goin'  down  ter  the  ford  fust  thing  ?  If 
so,  it  ain't  more  nor  three  miles,  takin'  a  straight 
cut." 

"  Yes,"  replied  "Wellington,  "  we  will  go  the 
shortest  route;  and" — he  stopped  and  faced  his 
companion — "  remember  that  silence  in  the  woods 
is  the  only  true  way  to  success  in  hunting.  Any 
thing  you  have  to  say,  first  touch  my  arm,  then 
whisper  it  to  me.  Another  thing:  follow  in  my 
footsteps  and  avoid  treading  on  dry  sticks." 

They  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when  Kirtley 


52  MANULITO. 

touched  bis  companion,  and,  standing  on  tiptoe, 
whispered  to  him, — 

"  Say,  Bill,  can't  talk  much  ?" 

The  hunter  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Then  yer  must  ease  up  your  long  legs,  fur 
when  I  try  ter  foller  in  your  steps  I  kinder  strain 
my  trousers,  an'  I  feel  the  rheumatiz  in  my  side." 

"Wellington  laughed,  and  walked  slower  and  with 
shorter  step,  while  the  old  man  tried  to  step  in  his 
footprints.  At  times  they  penetrated  the  deepest 
thickets,  then  came  again  and  again  in  sight  of  the 
river,  but  they  knew  the  lay  of  the  land,  and  went 
silently  on.  Game  was  plenty,  and  quail,  grouse, 
and  turkeys  were  at  times  seen,  oftener  heard,  in 
the  bottoms.  As-  they  stepped  into  an  opening 
where  the  tall  grass  met  the  young  willows  on  the 
water's  edge,  Wellington  peered  down  the  river, 
looking  intently  at  a  point  below. 

"  Yaas,  thet's  the  p'int,"  whispered  his  compan 
ion,  "  'way  down  thar  whar  the  big  sand-bar  runs 
inter  the  river." 

They  stepped  quietly  back,  and  proceeding  with 
caution  walked  stealthily  along.  As  they  neared 
the  bend  Kirtley  touched  his  companion,  then 
whispered, — 

"  We're  here,  Bill ;  this  is  the  spot,  an'  jes'  'cross 
the  river,  by  thet  tall  elm,  is  whar  I  fust  seed  the 
big  buck." 

Placing  his  finger  to  his  lips  to  indicate  the 
necessity  of  caution  and  silence,  the  hunter,  his 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEF.  53 

companion,  and  the  dog  stepped  into  a  thicket  of 
willows,  where  they  had  an  open  view  up  and  down 
the  stream. 

As  they  sat  in  their  blind,  Wellington,  with  a 
true  hunter's  instinct,  looked  inquiringly  in  all 
directions  and  studied  the  situation.  Up-stream 
the  winding  river  curved  and  was  lost  behind  the 
projecting  banks,  while  below  it  wound  around  and 
turned  in  again,  leaving  the  hunter  and  his  com 
panion  hidden  on  an  out-jutting  point.  On  the 
opposite  shore,  the  place  where  at  each  previous 
time  the  buck  had  made  his  appearance,  the  bank 
stood  up  in  tiny  bluffs,  cut  sharp  by  the  flowing 
river,  or  receded  gradually  from  its  bed.  The  tall 
slough-grass  shone  pale-yellow  in  the  sunlight,  while 
here  and  there  the  darkness  of  the  deep  forest  was 
relieved  by  the  whitened  trunk  of  some  birch-tree. 
In  spots  little  willow  patches  extended  into  the 
stream,  showing  their  green  withes  strongly  in  con 
trast  with  the  grayish-brown  of  the  huge  elms 
which  seemed  to  preponderate  in  the  woods.  In 
front  of  them  a  great  sand-bar  filled  half  the  river 
width  and  raised  its  huge  back  three  or  four  feet 
above  the  water's  level. 

Wellington  and  his  companion  had  been  seated 
for  fully  half  an  hour,  and  there  were  still  no  signs 
of  the  deer.  Kirtley,  who  was  unused  to  such  long- 
continued  silence,  occasionally  shook  his  head  at 
"Wellington,  and  at  last  whispered, — 

"I  hope  yer  hev'n't  doubted  me,  Bill,  'cause 


54  MANUL1TO. 

what  I  told  yer  'bout  seem'  the  buck  was  the 
Lawd's  truth." 

Wellington  did  not  doubt  him,  but  thought  per 
haps  it  was  his  ill  luck  not  to  be  able  to  get  a  shot. 
Ducks  and  geese  were  plentiful,  and,  hearing  the 
swishing  of  wings2  he  turned  his  head  in  anticipa 
tion,  when  he  saw  a  flock  of  Canada  geese  coming 
with  set  wings  close  down  to  the  water's  edge. 
Their  great  speed  carried  them  beyond  the  bar, 
when  they  turned,  swung  over  the  blind,  and  settled 
on  the  sand.  Kirtley  touched  Wellington's  arm, 
and  whispered, — 

"  Gall,  Bill,  gall !  Did  ye  ever  see  sech  imper- 
dence?  Why,  when  they  sailed  over  us  thet  old 
gander  kinder  looked  down  at  us  es  much  es  ter 
say, '  Hello,  boys !  What  are  ye  doin'  thar  ?' ' 

Wellington  pressed  his  companion's  arm  and 
motioned  with  his  head  to  the  river.  As  he  did  so 
a  flock  of  fully  twenty  mallards  dropped  softly  into 
the  stream  and  drifted  lazily  with  the  current  within 
thirty  yards  of  their  blind.  The  ducks  chatted, 
while  an  old  drake  uttered  with  musical  vibration 
a  mellow  "  M'amph"  which  words  cannot  describe. 
The  sunlight  playing  on  them  produced  a  most 
pleasing  picture  of  glowing  colors.  Wellington  was 
a  great  lover  of  nature,  and  he  was  silently  ad 
miring  the  beauty  of  the  scene  when  his  arm  was 
touched,  and,  much  to  his  surprise,  his  companion 
whispered, — 

"Thar,  Bill,  thar's  what  I  call  a  purty  sight. 


£>  M  -  i 

O  H3         Q 

3-        £ 

«•*•  p 

H 


CD 

t£> 

ro 


purple, 


clied  it,  beat-8 


drii 


1 

I 


55 

[n  my  'pinion 
tern  birds.  I 
ly  handsome, 
.p  like  bright 
enin'  himself, 
ider  stan's  on 
-d !  An'  talk 
on  his  head? 
I.  Then  see 
1  his  neck  is 
1  water  is  all 
:he  sky,  but  I 
ches'nut,  an' 
a  maple-leaf 
our  colors  in 

ducks  slowly 

..     As  he  fin- 

nd  was  about 

the  opposite 


bu 


don't  move ! 
w  flash  at  the 
your  head ! 

To  the  ordinary  observer  nothing  would  have 
been  visible,  but  Wellington  had  discovered  some 
thing  which  made  his  heart  bound,  for  above  the 
tops  of  the  willow-twigs  he  saw  a  pair  of  wide- 
spreading  antlers,  white  and  branched  like  a  scraggy 
burr-oak.  He  knew  they  must  belong  to  an  animal 


54 


what  I  told 
Lawd's  truth. 

Wellington 
haps  it  was  hi 
Ducks  and  g 
swishing  of  v\ 
tion,  when  he 
with  set  win( 
Their  great  E 
when  they  tur 
on  the  sand, 
and  whisperec 

"  Gall,  Bill, 
dence  ?  Why 
gander  kindei 
say,  *  Hello,  b( 

Wellington 
motioned  with 
a  flock  of  fulh 
the  stream  and 
thirty  yards  c 
while  an  old  ( 
a  mellow  "  M'; 
The  sunlight 
pleasing  pictur 

a  great  lover  of  nature,  and  he  was  silently  ad 
miring  the  beauty  of  the  scene  when  his  arm  was 
touched,  and,  much  to  his  surprise,  his  companion 
whispered, — 

"Thar,  Bill,  thar's  what  I  call  a  purty  sight. 


. 
zilvw-  i  thin 


:  ' 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEY.  55 

Talk  about  reflections  on  the  water !  In  my  'pinion 
it  ain't  nowhar  ter  be  compared  ter  them  birds.  I 
can't  say  es  them  ducks  is  partickerly  handsome, 
'cause  yaller  and  brown  don't  show  up  like  bright 
colors,  but  jes'  look  at  thet  drake  preenin'  himself, 
an'  see  how  he  flips  his  wings  an'  kinder  stan's  on 
the  water.  Look  at  him  juke  his  head !  An'  talk 
'bout  colors !  How's  thet  fur  green  on  his  head  ? 
Greener  nor  eny  grass  ye  ever  seed.  Then  see 
how  it  shines  !  An'  thet  white  'round  his  neck  is 
whiter  nor  a  parson's  tie.  Your  still  water  is  all 
right,  Bill,  reflectin'  the  colors  from  the  sky,  but  I 
calkilate  thet  the  green,  an'  white,  an'  ches'nut,  an' 
purple,  an'  gray,  an'  the  colors  like  a  maple-leaf 
after  the  frost  has  teched  it,  beats  your  colors  in 
the  pond  all  holler." 

While  Kirtley  was  talking  the  ducks  slowly 
drifted  out  of  sight  around  the  bend.  As  he  fin 
ished  his  speech  Wellington  smiled,  and  was  about 
to  reply,  when  he  gazed  intently  at  the  opposite 
shore,  then  hissed, — 

"  Silence,  Kirtley !  Don't  speak !  don't  move ! 
but  look  across  the  river  in  that  willow  flash  at  the 
foot  of  the  bar.  Careful ;  don't  raise  your  head ! 

To  the  ordinary  observer  nothing  would  have 
been  visible,  but  Wellington  had  discovered  some 
thing  which  made  his  heart  bound,  for  above  the 
tops  of  the  willow-twigs  he  saw  a  pair  of  wide- 
spreading  antlers,  white  and  branched  like  a  scraggy 
burr-oak.  He  knew  they  must  belong  to  an  animal 


56  MANULITO. 

of  immense  size,  and  yet  their  owner  did  not  move 
them,  but,  standing  with  body  concealed,  apparently 
thought  he  was  fully  hid  from  view.  Wellington's 
finger  was  on  the  trigger-guard,  and  he  waited 
and  watched,  as  cool  and  as  calm  as  if  nothing 
were  in  sight  or  expectancy.  Suddenly  and  quietly 
the  willows  parted,  and  the  nose,  then  the  head 
and  antlers,  of  an  enormous  buck  appeared.  He 
was  as  shy  as  a  wild  turkey,  and  as  timid  as  a 
maiden  taking  her  first  ocean  bath.  As  his  head 
and  shoulders  moved  into  sight  he  looked  up, 
down,  and  across  the  river  as  if  in  expectation  of 
danger,  then,  after  becoming  satisfied  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  feared,  he  moved  to  the  water's 
edge  as  if  to  cross.  He  stepped  cautiously  into  the 
clear  stream,  bowed  his  long  neck,  daintily  sipped 
the  water,  then,  like  a  connoisseur  tasting  wine  of 
ancient  vintage,  raised  his  head  and  thoughtfully 
swallowed  it,  as  if  inwardly  passing  on  its  merits. 

Kirtley  sat  in  joyous  anticipation,  for  he  felt  cer 
tain  Wellington  would  get  a  shot ;  the  dog  saw  the 
deer,  and  his  teeth  chattered  with  excitement.  The 
buck  stopped  and  listened,  as  if  he  heard  some 
sound,  but  nothing  was  audible  except  the  rustle  of 
the  dry  leaves  as  they  fell  to  the  earth,  or  the  swish 
ing  of  the  water  against  an  overhanging  limb  as 
the  current  moved  it  up  and  down. 

Wellington  now  had  a  good  chance  to  shoot,  for 
the  deer  was  in  the  water,  and  he  saw  that  the 
course  it  was  taking  would  bring  it  into  an  opening 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEY.  57 

within  fifty  yards  of  him.  As  the  buck  reached 
the  shore  he  was  temporarily  concealed  behind  a 
fallen  tree,  and  as  he  walked  into  view  his  back 
was  towards  the  hunters.  Wellington,  with  rifle 
levelled,  waited  for  him  to  turn  his  body  or  head, 
but  fortune  seemed  to  favor  the  deer,  for  he  walked 
swiftly  away,  giving  no  chance  to  secure  a  side  or 
head  shot.  Wellington  whistled  slightly  to  secure 
the  animal's  attention,  but  he  only  hastened  his 
gait.  Despairing  of  getting  a  better  shot,  he  aimed 
at  the  head  just  below  the  butt  of  the  horns  and 
fired  ;  as  the  rifle  cracked  the  buck  dropped  in  his 
tracks,  and  Kirtley  yelled  and  danced  like  an  Indian, 
but  Wellington  sprang  towards  the  deer,  drew  his 
knife,  and  touched  its  point  to  the  animal's  throat. 
The  effect  was  electrical,  and  the  buck  sprang  to 
his  feet,  transformed  into  a  beast  of  the  most  deadly 
character.  His  nostrils  dilated,  and  there  issued 
from  them  blasts  of  defiance  and  anger.  His  hair 
was  reversed  and  stood  up  like  the  bristles  on  a  hog. 
His  eyes  flashed  with  a  deadly  light  and  seemed 
twice  their  natural  size,  while  they  changed  rapidly 
to  red  and  green. 

Wellington  recognized  his  danger.  The  dog, 
young  but  brave,  seized  the  animal  by  the  throat ; 
but  the  enraged  buck  seemed  to  see  in  the  hunter 
his  natural  enemy,  and  before  Wellington  could 
get  to  a  sheltering  tree  sprang  with  lowered  antlers 
towards  him,  and  the  impetuosity  of  the  charge 
carried  hunter,  dog,  and  deer  into  the  stream.  As 


58  MANVLITO. 

they  struck  the  water  the  dog  loosened  his  hold, 
then  swam  to  the  attack  again.  The  water  was 
shallow,  perhaps  four  feet  deep,  which  gave  the 
buck  a  chance  to  exercise  most,  if  not  all,  of  his 
strength.  As  the  dog  neared  the  buck,  the  enraged 
animal  stood  on  his  hind  legs,  raised  his  forefeet, 
and  with  a  sickening  crash  his  sharp  hoofs,  with 
scarce  a  second's  variation,  clattered  upon  the  noble 
animal's  head,  and  with  a  low  moan  the  faithful 
brute  sank  lifeless  beneath  the  water. 

"While  this  was  going  on  Wellington  had  seized 
a  log,  whose  end  had  drifted  on  the  shore,  and 
pulled  it  in  front  of  him.  He  was  none  too  quick, 
for  now  the  maddened  brute  started  towards  him. 
It  was  the  first  time  this  king  of  the  forest  had 
been  brought  to  bay,  and  all  the  animosity  and 
fearlessness  which  had  been  concentrated  in  him 
for  years  suddenly  broke  forth.  He  surged  the 
water  before  him,  then,  as  if  on  land,  he  beat  it 
in  his  pawing  till  it  frothed  and  foamed  with  the 
whiteness  of  snow.  His  eyes  were  now  a  greenish- 
red  and  blazed  with  anger,  while  there  was  inter- 
mitten tly  ejected  from  his  nostrils  a  "  p-shew"  like 
steam  escaping  from  a  leaking  valve. 

Wellington  had  been  in  close  quarters  before, 
and  waited  coolly  for  the  attack,  intending  to  keep 
the  log  between  him  and  his  enemy.  The  buck 
attempted  to  climb  over  this  barrier,  and  as  he  did 
"Wellington  struck  at  his  throat  with  his  knife, 
making  a  deep  incision  on  the  animal's  neck,  which 


OLD  MAN  KIRTLEY.  59 

only  increased  its  anger.  It  then  tried  to  jump 
over  the  log,  but  the  water  held  it  back ;  again  it 
attempted  to  climb  over,  and  as  it  did  "Wellington 
seized  it  by  its  antlers,  pulled  its  nose  beneath 
the  surface  and  tried  to  drown  it,  but  the  animal 
seemed  possessed  of  endless  strength,  for  it  raised 
its  head  and  shook  him  off.  Again  it  tried  to  get 
at  him  over  the  log,  and,  infuriated  himself,  he 
struck  at  it  again  and  again  with  his  knife,  but 
the  buck  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life.  Deter 
mined  to  end  the  contest,  Wellington  advanced. 
The  buck  sprang  at  him,  and  as  he  tried  to  avoid 
the  plunge  of  its  horns  its  sharp  hoof  struck  his 
hand,  cutting  it  to  the  bone,  and  his  knife  flew  spin 
ning  from  him  and  fell,  yards  away,  into  the  river. 
A  dull  feeling  of  despair  came  over  Wellington. 


60  MANULITO. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  RIVER. 

"  Hand 

Grasps  hand,  eye  lights  eye  in  good  friendship, 
And  great  hearts  expand, 
And  grow  one  in  the  sense  of  this  world's  life." 

EGBERT  BROWNING. 

EJRTLEY  saw  what  had  happened,  and  shouted 
to  him  to  keep  his  courage  up. 

"  Shoot  him  !"  cried  Wellington. 

Kirtley  seized  his  rifle,  levelled  it,  and  the  ham 
mer  fell  with  a  dull  snap. 

"  Load  it  quick,  for  heaven's  sake !"  cried  Wel 
lington.  But  his  heart  sank  within  him  as  Kirtley 
replied, — 

"  Can't  do  it,  Bill,  'cause  you  hev  the  powder- 
horn  'round  your  neck." 

At  these  words  Wellington  knew  that  unless  he 
could  drown  the  buck  or  tire  him  out  he  must  lose 
his  own  life.  The  great  animal  was  becoming  ex 
hausted,  but  the  cold  had  chilled  Wellington  until 
he  had  lost  half  his  strength.  Time  and  again  he 
tried  to  keep  the  brute's  nose  beneath  the  water, 
but  each  time  was  shaken  of.  He  knew  the  battle 
must  be  decided  soon,  or,  chilled  and  enfeebled  as 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  RIVER.  61 

he  was  by  his  long  fight  and  by  the  cold  water,  he 
would  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  mad  beast.  As  the 
buck  tried  again  to  clamber  over  the  log,  Welling 
ton  threw  his  whole  weight  onto  its  antlers.  Man 
and  beast  struggled  and  fought,  now  up,  now  down. 
The  log  floated  from  them.  Still  they  fought  on. 
At  last,  with  an  awful  shriek,  the  buck  tore  from 
the  grasp  of  the  hunter,  and  both  man  and  beast 
saw  there  was  no  barrier  between  them.  Breath 
less,  and  scarcely  able  to  stand,  Wellington  knew 
his  time  had  come.  Swifter  than  a  thousand 
visions  his  past  life  flew  before  him,  but  above  all 
was  the  thought  of  his  wife  and  helpless  babes. 
The  buck  jumped  towards  him,  with  bloody  froth 
dripping  from  its  mouth ;  his  cruel  hoofs  were 
raised  to  strike.  "Wellington  feebly  raised  his 
hands  above  his  head  to  protect  it  and  closed  his 
eyes,  but  at  that  moment  a  quick  report  of  a  rifle 
broke  from  the  opposite  shore, — the  buck  swayed, 
his  head  drooped  to  one  side,  and  fell  with  a  heavy 
splash.  Wellington  feebly  staggered  backward, 
then,  with  a  last  effort  to  catch  himself,  fell  forward 
fainting,  with  his  arms  across  the  body  of  the  dead 
buck,  his  face  as  white  as  snow  in  the  shining  sun. 
A  dark  form  shot  with  incredible  speed  from  the 
shore,  and  the  apparently  lifeless  hunter  was  ten 
derly  lifted  in  the  arms  of  Manulito. 

During  the  final  struggle  Kirtley  ran  up  and 
down  the  bank  like  a  wild  man,  wringing  his 
hands,  crying,  swearing,  and  praying,  and  when 

6 


62  MANULITO. 

he  saw  Manulito  raise  the  head  of  Wellington 
from  the  carcass  of  the  buck,  he  waved  his  hand 
and  danced  and  yelled  with  joy. 

"  Make  fire  quick,"  cried  Manulito,  and  never 
was  a  fire  started  sooner. 

As  the  Indian  came  ashore,  towing  the  inani 
mate  form  of  the  hunter  and  the  dead  deer,  Kirtley 
ran  to  meet  him.  "Is  he  dead?"  he  asked,  sor 
rowfully. 

"  No ;  only  fainted  and  very  weak,"  replied  the 
Indian. 

At  this  Kirtley  laughed  and  cried  alternately, 
"  Oh,  Manulito,  you  are  an  angel, — a  brick, — a 
warrior, — a  cuss!  Lawd,  but  I'll  never  furgit  this 
act  yer  done  ter-day." 

The  Indian  simply  replied,  "  More  fire ;  give 
Manulito  fire-water." 

As  he  received  it  from  Kirtley,  he  poured  a  few 
drops  into  Wellington's  mouth.  The  effect  was 
quickly  apparent,  for  the  unconscious  man  stirred, 
opened  his  eyes  momentarily  in  doubt,  then,  as  if 
understanding  all,  threw  a  soul  of  love  into  one 
look  which  he  gave  Manulito,  and  then  closed  his 
eyes  again.  They  built  a  wall  of  brush  around  the 
fire  except  at  his  feet.  Kirtley  gave  him  his  heavy 
coat,  they  rubbed  him,  and  in  a  short  time  he 
looked  at  them  both  with  that  fond  look  they  knew 
so  well. 

"  Where  is  the  buck  ?"  said  he. 

Manulito  replied,  "  My  brother  shall  see  him." 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  RIVER.  63 

Saying  this  they  dragged  the  huge  beast  to  his 
feet. 

"Let  me  open  him  up,"  said  Kirtley,  "I  hev 
an  ole  grudge  ag'in'  him,  an'  it'll  be  heap  o'  satis 
faction  to  git  partly  even  with  him  in  thet  way." 

He  deftly  took  out  the  inwards,  and  as  he  did  so 
something  hard  dropped  into  his  hand.  He  looked 
at  it,  then  handed  it  to  the  Indian,  saying, — 

"  Here,  Manulito,  is  your  bullet  thet  sped  true  to 
the  heart  an'  saved  your  best  friend." 

As  Kirtley  said  this,  the  Indian  took  the  mis 
shapen  bullet  and  handed  it  to  Wellington,  saying, — 

"  See !  my  brother,  see !" 

As  Wellington  looked  his  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
for  there,  plainly  to  be  seen,  was  the  "  W"  he  had 
marked.  It  was  the  bullet  he  had  dug  from  the 
tree  and  had  given  to  Manulito  in  the  forest.  He 
put  it  in  his  hunting-shirt,  while  the  Indian  said, — 

"  "When  the  ground  is  ploughed  in  the  spring-time 
and  the  seed  sown,  the  warm  sun  makes  it  grow  to 
ripened  grain ;  so  evil  deeds,  when  forgiven  in  a 
brother's  heart,  are  things  the  Great  Manitou  does 
not  overlook.  When  the  Gray  Eagle  left  his  cabin 
this  morning  Manulito  did  not  intend  to  hunt  this 
day,  but  as  the  sun  rose  in  the  heavens  and  he 
saw  how  beautiful  was  the  morning,  his  heart 
longed  for  the  stillness  of  the  woods,  and  he  struck 
the  trail  which  leads  to  the  Wapsie  far  below  the 
ford.  His  footsteps  were  aimless;  his  heart  was 
light,  his  head  clear ;  and  the  birds  seemed  never 


64  MANUL1TO. 

to  have  sung  so  sweetly  or  the  winds  to  have  blown 
so  musically  as  to-day.  At  one  time  he  leaned 
against  a  tree  while  he  looked  on  the  smooth 
waters,  and  in  fancy  he  saw  himself  a  pappoose 
again,  and  lived  among  the  birds  and  flowers  as  he 
did  when  a  child  in  years  gone  by.  Then  in  the 
waters  he  read,  as  if  written  in  a  book,  his  whole 
life,  and  he  saw  the  fate  of  his  people.  He  wan 
dered  through  the  bottom-land  down  to  the  mouth 
of  Silver  Creek,  and  as  he  did,  a  buzzard  sailed 
high  in  air,  but  fell  dead  at  the  report  of  his  rifle. 
Then  he  loaded  his  gun,  and,  when  too  late,  for  he 
intended  always  to  keep  it,  he  saw  that  he  had 
placed  in  the  muzzle  the  marked  bullet.  He  could 
not  withdraw  it,  and  so  forced  it  down.  It  seemed 
at  this  time  as  if  the  day  was  growing  chill,  for  the 
blood  in  the  veins  of  Manulito  was  cold.  The  sun 
was  bright,  the  air  warm,  and  he  could  not  under 
stand.  A  crow  flew  over  his  head,  crying,  <  Caw, 
caw !'  and  its  cry  grated  on  the  ears  of  Manulito, 
for  it  sounded  to  him  like  the  voices  of  the  children 
in  the  village  the  day  they  stoned  his  dog.  It 
seemed  as  if  some  great  danger  lurked  in  the 
woods,  and  the  wind  through  the  tree-tops  was  like 
the  lonesome  wailing  of  the  squaw  when  her  war 
rior  has  been  brought  to  her,  dead.  Manulito 
looked  around,  but  saw  arid  heard  nothing.  Then, 
as  he  stood  still  and  hearkened  so  silently  that  he 
ceased  to  breathe  and  his  heart  almost  stopped  beat 
ing,  a  faint  sound  reached  his  ears,  and  in  spite 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  RIVER.  £5 

of  the  noise  of  the  chattering  birds,  he  knew  it  was 
a  human  voice.  The  blood  rushed  like  fire  through 
his  veins,  and  the  winds  shrieked  to  him,  '  The  Gray 
Eagle !  The  Gray  Eagle  !  To  the  ford !  To  the 
ford !'  Swifter  than  the  hawk  darts  after  its  prey, 
swifter  than  the  tiger  rushes  to  defend  her  young, 
swifter  than  the  antelope  bounds  over  the  plain, 
Manulito  sprang  forward.  At  other  times  he  would 
have  thought  this  speed  faster  than  the  wind,  but 
now  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  run,  yet  so  swiftly 
he  flew  that  trees  and  bushes  fled  from  him  and 
went  backward,  and  he  seemed  to  be  standing  still. 
He  ran  through  thickets,  through  the  tangled  grass, 
through  the  water  in  the  bayous,  leaped  over  fallen 
trees,  ran  thus  for  miles,  but  never  grew  tired,  for 
ever  behind  him  and  spurring  him  on  was  the  voice 
of  the  Good  Spirit  in  his  ears,  saying,  '  To  the  ford ! 
To  the  ford !  To  save  your  brother !'  Then  as  he 
neared  the  ford  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  Gray- 
beard,  and  swift  as  the  frightened  deer  he  hurried 
on,  when  in  the  bend  he  saw  his  brother  in  the 
water.  Like  the  beast  maddened  when  she  finds 
her  cub  in  danger,  Manulito  seemed  not  to  touch 
the  ground,  and  when  the  buck  thought  he  had 
the  Gray  Eagle  in  his  power  the  rifle  of  Manulito 
belched  forth,  and  the  bullet,  guided  by  the  good 
Manitou,  sank  deep  into  the  heart  of  the  big  buck, 
and  the  prayer  of  Manulito  was  answered,  for  this 
day  he  has  in  part  paid  the  debt  he  owes  his  white 
brother." 

e  6* 


66  MANULITO. 

"  Paid  in  part !"  yelled  Kirtley  to  the  Indian. 
"  Why,  consarn  it,  what  yer've  done  for  Bill  ought 
ter  pay  him  all  yer  owe  him,  an'  I  know  Bill  well 
'nough  ter  know  thet  arter  this  day's  work,  an'  the 
way  yer  saved  his  life,  he  will  give  yer  a  receipt  in 
full  fur  ev'rything  yer  owe  him.  Ef  he  don't, 
why,  I'll  be  durned  ef  I  won't  pay  the  balance 
myself.  'Nother  thing,  Manulito  :  now,  yer  know  I 
ain't  got  any  love  fur  an  Injun,  nor  never  had,  but 
no  white  man  could  hev  done  hisself  prouder  than 
yer  did  yourself  ter-day.  An'  when  the  time  comes 
when  you  air  goin'  ter  be  tried  fur  murder,  or 
what's  wuss,  hoss-stealin',  ef  Bill  don't  defend  yer 
free  gratis  fur  nothin',  an'  get  yer  clar,  an'  save  your 
good  character, — don't  make  no  difference  whether 
yer  be  guilty  or  not, — he  ain't  the  man  an'  lawyer 
thet  I  know  he  is." 

"Wellington  replied,  "Any  obligations  Manulito 
owed  me  are  more  than  cancelled ;  he  knows  it, — 
you  know  it.  There  are  times,"  he  said,  as  his 
voice  grew  husky  with  emotion,  "  when  words  fail 
to  express  a  man's  feelings,  and  the  heart  leaves  its 
hiding  and  fills  his  throat  so  that  he  cannot  speak. 
I  do  not  know  that  life  is  any  sweeter  to  me  than 
to  any  one  else, — indeed,  I  did  not  know  how  sweet 
it  was  until  now  that  I  have  so  nearly  lost  it. 
Manulito  has  renewed  it  for  me,  restored  it  to  my 
wife  and  children,  and  here,  Kirtley,  in  your  pres 
ence,  in  the  presence  of  my  true  friend,  Manulito, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  ever-living  God,"  and 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  RIVER.  67 

he  raised  his  eyes  reverently  to  the  vault  of  heaven, 
"  I  promise  this  day  will  never  be  forgotten." 

For  a  few  moments  each  gazed  intently  into  the 
fire  in  deep  thought.  The  Indian  was  first  to 
speak,  and  said, — 

"  The  sun  is  weary  of  the  day  and  will  hide  from 
it.  See !  he  will  soon  sink  behind  the  great  elm- 
trees.  The  birds  rise  in  their  evening  flight,  and 
we  must  start  for  the  home  of  my  brother." 

They  hung  the  huge  animal  to  a  tree  to  keep 
the  wolves  from  it,  and,  arranging  that  Kirtley 
should  go  after  it  on  the  morrow,  they  started  on 
their  homeward  trip. 

As  the  twilight  deepened,  they  bade  "  Good 
night"  to  Mrs.  Kirtley,  after  they  had  partaken  of 
the  generous  meal  which  she  had  offered  them. 
When  they  parted  at  the  door  the  moon  had  risen 
and  was  shedding  the  softest  light  on  all  the  sur 
roundings.  Kirtley  followed  them  to  the  wagon- 
road.  He  had  left  his  hat  at  the  house,  and  his 
gray  hair  shone  like  frosted  silver  in  the  mellow 
light.  As  they  parted,  he  took  Wellington's  hand 
in  both  of  his,  and  said, — 

"  Lawd,  Bill,  but  I'm  glad  it  came  out  right,  an* 
ter-morrer  yer'll  see  me  in  the  village  in  the  morn- 
in'.  Watch  fur  us, — me  an'  the  oxen  an'  the  buck ! 
I  would  bring  the  ole  woman  too,  but  yer  know 
how  'tis,  wimmen  hes  their  places,  an'  a  woman 
hes  no  business  'round  when  her  husband  is  cele- 
bratin'.  Celebratin'  ?"  said  he,  as  he  roared  and 


68  MANVL1TO. 

slapped  his  leg  at  the  thought  of  it.  "  Why,  hoys, 
the  whole  village  ain't  goin'  ter  be  none  too  big  fur 
me  when  me  an'  the  big  buck  comes  ter  town." 

The  moon  had  ascended  high  into  the  dome  of 
the  sky,  and  the  two  hunters  were  walking  side  by 
side.  At  first,  as  was  his  wont,  the  Indian  led, 
"Wellington  following  in  his  trail,  but  soon  they 
walked  together.  The  night  was  clear ;  the  stars 
shone  feebly,  paled  by  the  brighter  moon,  and  the 
frost  glittered  on  the  bushes  and  blades  of  grass. 
A  contented  silence  fell  on  both  men  as  they 
thought  over  the  events  of  the  departed  day. 

As  they  walked  along  in  close  proximity,  Wel 
lington's  hand  dropped  to  his  side,  and  as  it  did,  it 
touched  his  companion's.  They  spoke  not,  but  a 
gentle  pressure,  such  as  a  woman  confidingly  gives 
to  the  man  she  loves,  passed  between  them,  and  as 
they  looked  in  one  another's  faces  their  eyes  shone 
with  a  love  more  than  fraternal,  and  the  silent 
moon  brightened  the  scene  and  witnessed  their 
secret  pledge  of  life-long  friendship. 

Next  morning,  before  break  of  day,  Kirtley  was 
astir ;  and,  having  breakfasted  and  fed  his  oxen,  he 
pulled  his  coon-skin  cap  well  over  his  ears,  drew 
tighter  the  belt  which  encircled  his  waist,  yoked 
his  oxen  to  the  wagon,  and  started  for  the  settle 
ment. 

The  stars  were  glittering  and  the  day  seemed  far 
off,  but  the  still,  frosty  air  of  the  morning  carried 
for  miles  the  "  creak,  creak"  of  the  wagon  and  the 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  RIVER.  69 

cheery  tones  of  Kirtley  as  he  encouraged  the  team. 
Now  and  then  he  glanced  into  the  wagon  where 
the  huge  buck  lay  quiet  in  death,  and  then  he 
would  break  out  into  spasmodic  speeches,  exclaim 
ing,— 

"  Well,  I  declar'  ter  goodness,  but  thet  wuz  a 
close  shave  fur  Bill !  An'  ef  it  hadn't  ben  fur  me 
an'  the  Injun,  there's  no  tellin'  whar  Bill  wud  be 
now, — perhaps  tryin'  lawsuits  in  the  Ian'  of  Canaan 
or  sum  other  furrin  country. 

"  Cours',  cours',"  he  continued,  "  I  didn't  do  ez 
much  ez  the  Injun  in  one  sense ;  but  at  the  same 
time,  ef  the  praayers  uv  an  old  sinner  'mounted  to 
much,  then  I  did  a  heap  o'  good,  fur,  stretch  my 
gallus  ef  I  didn't  pray  powerful  hard  thet  the 
Lawd  or  sum  un  wud  step  in  an'  help  Bill  outeii 
thet  scrape.  Cours',  I  wuz  kinder  mix-cumfuddled 
an'  sufterin'  with  nervous  prostrashun,  an'  didn't 
know  jes'  wot  ter  say,  or  how  ter  go  at  it  ter 
make  a  praayer,  seein'  ez  how  I  hevn't  sed  enny 

fur  a  long  time,  so  I  sed  '  Now  I  lay  me  down / 

Then  I  kinder  cum  ter  myself  an'  tho't  wot  a  fool 
I  wuz  to  think  o'  layin'  down  fur  a  minnit  when 
the  buck  wuz  arter  Bill.  So  I  kinder  shrugged  my 
shoulders,  an'  sed,  fast  an'  loud,  1 0  Lawd,  we 

thank  thee  for  the  food .'  Then  I  cum  ter  myself 

an'  tho't  wot  a  fool  I  wuz  ter  be  thankful  fur 
food,  when  the  food  wuz  havin'  the  bulge  on  my 
best  frien',  an'  wuz  liable  ter  make  him  food  fur 
fishes,  mud-turtles,  and  sech-like  reptiles.  Talk 


70  MANULITO. 

'bout  a  man,  when  he's  drownin',  thinkin'  over  all 
his  sins  in  a  minnit!  Why,  I  tho't  uv  mine  in 
half  thet  time,  an'  I  wuz  jes'  goin'  ter  try  'nother 
praayer  w'en  the  Injun  fired  an'  sprang  inter  the 
water  ter  save  Bill.  Then  I  jes'  drapped  onter  my 
marrers,  clasped  my  ban's  together,  jes'  ez  yer  see 
innercent  babies  in  the  picters,  an'  sed,  '  Thank 
the  Lawd !  thank  the  Lawd !' 

"I'll  tell  yer  what,  Jerry,"  continued  he,  ad 
dressing  his  conversation  to  the  ox  nearest  him, 
"  yer  ain't  human,  yer  can't  talk, — leastwise  in  our 
language, — but,  et  ther  same  time,  yer  all  right,  an' 
I  ain't  afeerd  ter  trust  yer,  cause  ef  yer  don't  agree 
with  me,  at  any  rate  yer  won't  mix-cumfuddle  me 
with  dictionary  wuds  like  sum  uv  'em  does  in  the 
settlement.  An'  wot  I  wuz  goin'  ter  say  wuz  this : 
thet  fine  wuds  be  all  right,  butiful  praayers  in  the 
churches,  but  w'en  a  man  wants  the  Lawd's  help  in 
downright  airnest,  wuds  fail  ter  cum,  an'  he  sez, 
*  Lawd,  save  me !'  An'  ef  the  Lawd  concludes  to 
enter  inter  the  contrac'  the  man  is  saved,  an'  his 
thanks  is  given  in  mighty  few  wuds.  Now,  in 
cours',  ef  I  hed  ben  eddicated  like  Bill  or  the  par- 
sin  at  the  settlement,  I  wud  hev  given  thanks  in 
meny  butiful  wuds ;  but,  doncher  know,  Jerry,  thet 
I  thinks  the  Lawd  j edges  by  the  man's  heart,  an' 
whether  he  means  wot  he  sez.  Ef  he  does  mean 
it,  purty  language  don't  count.  An'  I  feel  sure  my 
thanks  wuz  ez  'ceptable  ez  if  I  hed  sed  'em  in  the 
butifulest  wuds." 


THE  BATTLE  IN  THE  RIVER.  71 

The  day  had  commenced  to  break,  and  the  gray 
in  the  east  was  tinged  here  and  there  by  the  reflec 
tion  from  the  rising  sun.  Kirtley  seemed  in  a 
talkative  mood,  and,  as  the  faithful  oxen  trudged 
along,  the  old  man  patted  his  patient  listener  on 
the  shoulders,  and  continued  : 

"  Yes,  Jerry,  fine  wuds  air  nice  to  keep  in  stock ; 
they  air  like  fresh  goods  at  the  store  :  they  air  allus 
pushed  out  whar  they'll  do  most  good ;  but  good, 
plain  wuds  is  wot  I  like.  In  cours',  ez  yer  know, 
I  use  thet  kind.  I  admit,  sometimes  w'en  I  want 
ter  be  pertick'ly  'mpressive,  I  use  cuss  wuds.  But 
then  I'm  used  ter  it,  an'  it  don't  do  enny  harm,  an' 
ter  me  it  surely  does  a  heap  uv  good,  fur  it  makes 
the  wuds  before  an'  arter  the  cuss  wud  pecoolarly 
strong  an'  'mphatic.  In  cours',  ef  I  was  eddicated, 
I  don't  s'pose  I  wud  swar,  fur  then  I  wud  hev 
wuds  enough  without  rizzortin'  to  perfanity. 

"  Bill  sez  I  wud  a  make  a  good  lawyer.  Now, 
Bill  is  a  good  frien'  uv  mine,  an'  he  wudn't  'ten- 
daily  deceive  me;  but  fur  me  ter  be  a  lawyer? 
No,  thanks,  Jerry.  As  they  say  in  the  settlement, 
*I  'predate  yer  kind  invertation,  but  pleas;  'cept 
my  regrets.'  I've  seed  a  good  deal  o'  law,  an'  Bill 
will  tell  yer  thet  thar's  hardly  ever  a  lawsuit  tried 
'less  I  am  on  hand,  either  as  plaintiff  or  defendant ; 
an'  ef  thar  is  no  chance  fur  me  ez  either,  then  I 
make  a  mighty  good  juror.  I  tell  you,  Jerry, 
what  I've  seed  in  courts  wud  make  a  book,  a  whole 
book  with  a  supplement  throwed  in.  Don't  yer 


72  MANULITO. 

remember  wot  Sampson  said  ter  the  Philistines? 
Cours'  you  don't.  Well,  he  said, i  Truth  is  mighty 
and  will  pervail.'  Now,  Jerry,  'tween  you  an' 
me,  Sampson  wuz  off, — clear  off, — though  I  want 
tcr  give  him  the  benefit  of  ther  doubt,  an',  ez  the 
lawyers  sez, '  Will  admit,  fur  the  sake  of  ther  argoo- 
ment,  thet  wot  the  sed  Sampson  sed  wuz  true.'  But 
I  hev  seed  too  much  uv  law  ter  be  han-swaggled 
inter  believin'  that  truth  is  mighty  an'  will  pervail. 
It  depen's.  It  depen's  on  the  lawyer  an'  the  jury. 
Give  me  a  good  lawyer  an7  a  fat  pocket-book,  an'  a 
day  ter  git  'quainted  with  the  jury,  an'  I'm  bettin' 
thet  ther  man  thet  sues  me  fur  damages  will  hev 
the  costs  ter  pay.  Perhaps  I  wud  make  a  good 
lawyer,  Jerry,"  continued  the  old  man,  "  an'  Bill 
sez  thet  my  eloquence  wud  carry  me  through  the 
jury.  It  may  be  so  !  it  may  be  so  !  Et  the  same 
time,  I  wud  rather  be  plaintiff  or  defendant,  an' 
let  the  jury  carry  me  through." 

As  the  old  man  rounded  the  bend,  within  a  mile 
of  the  village,  he  looked  at  the  surrounding  coun 
try  as  if  anticipating  the  approach  of  some  one, 
and,  seeing  no  one,  came  to  a  halt, — a  proceeding 
which  was  most  acceptable  to  the  patient  oxen. 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  73 


CHAPTEE  VL 

UNCLE   RASTUS. 

"  There  is  in  souls  a  sympathy  with  sounds, 
And  as  the  mind  is  pitch'd,  the  ear  is  pleas'd 
"With  melting  airs  or  martial,  brisk  or  grave ; 
Some  chord  in  unison  with  what  we  hear 
Is  touch 'd  within  us,  and  the  heart  replies." 

COWPER. 

"  FUNNY  !"  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  Funny  thet 
ole  Uncle  Rastus  don't  show  up.  He  surely  got  my 
message  ter  meet  me  here,  et  ther  curve  in  the 
road,  et  sunrise,  an'  bring  with  him  Sweet  Mar- 
jorum,  the  sorrel  hoss  thet  I  bought  in  Lexin'ton 
nigh  onter  six  months  sence." 

Then  the  old  man  chuckled,  and  took  a  fresh 
chew  of  tobacco,  as  he  muttered  to  himself, — 

"An'  won't  they  be  supprised!  Sent  the  ole 
man  home  broke,  las'  summer,  did  they?  Well, 
I'm  thinkin'  thet  this  day  the  tables  will  be  turned, 
an'  when  the  gentlemen  from  on  the  Mississipp' 
look  fur  Kirtley,  they'll  find  him.  Find  him  !"  he 
ejaculated.  "  An'  w'en  they  do,  the  ole  man  will  be 
on  top.  I  ain't  got  much  ter  bet,  I  ain't  got  much 
ter  bet,"  said  Kirtley,  as  he  laughingly  patted  his 
pockets  and  exposed  a  belt  which  seemed  filled 


74  MANUL1TO. 

with  coin.  "  Oh,  no,  I  ain't  got  much  ter  bet. 
I'll  make  it  interestin'  fur  some  of  'em." 

At  this  moment  there  trembled  on  the  still,  calm 
air  the  mellow  piping  of  the  quail.  The  old  man 
answered  the  call,  when,  a  short  distance  from  him, 
a  rustle  was  heard  in  the  dense  hazel  brush.  As 
the  bushes  parted,  there  was  exposed  a  face  so  jolly 
and  so  indicative  of  good  nature  that  no  one  ever 
gazed  on  it  without  being  insensibly  drawn  towards 
its  owner.  The  face  was  black,  with  a  fringe  of 
grizzly  whiskers.  A  pair  of  spectacles  resting  on 
the  owner's  nose  seemed  more  for  ornament  than 
for  use,  as  he  continually  looked  over  their  rim. 
The  head  was  covered  with  a  hat  of  ancient  origin, 
which  constant  use  had  changed  from  a  genteel 
slouch  to  a  cone-shape, — one  which  successive  sea 
sons  of  constant  wear  had  converted  to  its  present 
shape.  Such  was  the  first  appearance  of  Uncle 
Rastus,  a  negro  universally  beloved  and  respected. 
As  he  saw  Kirtley,  his  mouth  opened,  and  while 
the  woods  echoed  with  the  melody  of  his  laughter, 
he  exclaimed, — 

"  Heigh-ho !  Brer  Kirtley  !"  Then  bowing  and 
touching  his  hat  with  genteel  chivalry,  he  con 
tinued  ;  "  How  yo'  is  ?  Whar  yo'  ben  dis  long 
come  back  ?  Ah  was  heah  sum  time  'go,  an'  'lowed 
yo'd  cum  et  sun-up.  Den,  Ah  'lowed  dis  niggah 
bettah  get  little  res',  an'  w'en  Ah  braced  a  saplin' 
wid  m'  back  en'  tuk  one  little  snooze,  Ah  luked 
up,  en'  dar  war  de  oxen,  en',  sho'  nuff,  dar  yo'  is 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  75 

too.  All's  mighty  glad  ter  see  yo',  Brer  Kirtley,  en' 
hopes  yo'  en'  de  missus  am  well." 

"  Come  out,  Rastus !  Come  out !"  exclaimed 
Kirtley,  "  an'  bring  the  hoss.  'Seuse  me,  Rastus, 
fur  quotin'  Spokeshare,  but  I'm  feelin'  pertickly 
good  this  mornin',  an'  ef  yer  don't  objec',  I'll  jes' 
say,  as  I've  heard  Bill  say, '  My  hoss !  My  hoss ! 
My  kingdom  fur  a  hoss !' ' 

At  this  the  old  man  laughed  immoderately,  as 
if  it  brought  back  pleasant  recollections ;  while 
Uncle  Rastus  broke  into  an  explosive  guffaw  that 
would  have  set  a  crowd  of  boys  wild  with  laughter. 

"  Heah  yo'  is,  boss !  Heah  yo'  is !"  he  exclaimed, 
as  he  placed  the  halter-strap  into  the  hands  of 
Kirtley.  "  Heah  is  yo'  hoss,  an'  a  bettah  hoss 
nevah  looked  troo  a  bridle.  Yo'  say,  Brer  Kirt- 
ley,  yo'  gibs  yo'  kingdom  fo'  a  hoss.  Don'  yo' 
do  it,  'caus'  yo'  don'  hab  ter.  Dis  yer  animile,  dis 
yer  Sweet  Mahjorum  dat  yo'  has  in  yo'  possess'n, 
can't  be  beat.  Ah  tole  yo',"  continued  Uncle 
Rastus,  "dat  f'um  de  fust  time  Ah  sot  eyes  on 
'im  'e  won  dis  yer  ole  h'aht  ob  mine.  He  knows 
so  much, — no  nonsense  'bout  'im  !  No  rambunksh'- 
ness !  Jus'  ez  gentle  ez  a  lam',  jus'  like  a  kitten. 
'Sides,  Brer  Kirtley,  Ah's  'customed  ter  talk  ter  'im 
jus'  like  'e  one  ob  de  chillun,  en'  'e  do  what  Ah 
spec's  ob  him.  Dat  little  pick'ninny  mine,  dat 
Eph,  'e  en'  Sweet  Mahjorum  great  frien's.  Ebery 
mawnin'  w'en  Eph  go  out  en'  ride  'irn,  'e  talk  ter  'im 
jus'  like  'e  talk  ter  w'ite  folks,  'tel  de  hoss  unde'stan' 


76  MANULITO. 

all  'e  say.  Yest'd'y  mawnin'  Ah  tho't  bes'  ter  speed 
de  boss, — 'e  is  nevah  hit  wid  a  gad,  needah  does  we 
use  spuhs, — en'  Eph,  he  ride  'im.  Wen  de  hoss 
cum  nigh  me,  hit  'peared  ter  me  ez  ef  hit  wa'n't  no 
hoss,  but  jus'  a  sorrel  ghost  dat  wuz  goin'  lighter 
an'  faster  dan  de  win'.  Wen  'e  pass  me,  Ah  says 
ter  Eph, < Hi,  dab!  Let  'im  out!'  At  dat,  Eph 
ben's  ober  'is  neck,  en'  de  hoss  go  so  fas'  Ah  tink 
sho'  'im  no  hoss,  jus'  shadder.  Den,  a'terwuds,  Ah 
asks  Eph,  <  Wha  dat  hoss  go  so  fas'  pas'  me  ?'  Him 
say,  *  Sweet  Mahjorum  like  sugah,  an'  w'en  we  pass 
you,  Eph  whispah  in  eah,  Run,  Sweet  Mahjorum, 
run !  Hay  in  de  mangah — sugah  on  hay — waitin' 
fo'  you.'  Den  hoss  run  so  fas'  dat  Eph  ha'dly 
keep  in  saddle." 

Uncle  Rastus  was  very  demonstrative  in  his 
manner,  and  added  to  it  by  frequent  gesticulation ; 
but  Kirtley  was  a  keen  observer,  and  noticed  with 
pleasure  the  favorable  reports  as  to  the  speed  and 
condition  of  his  horse.  The  previous  summer 
Kirtley  had  been  taken  in  by  some  professional 
horsemen,  and  knowing  that  the  same  parties  would 
be  present  to-day  and  would  try  to  repeat  their 
former  successes,  he  had  anticipated  their  coming, 
and  was  prepared  to  entertain  them.  The  fact  of 
his  having  this  horse  was  kept  secret,  and  only  he, 
Uncle  Rastus,  and  the  latter's  son  knew  of  its 
presence. 

Kirtley  hitched  the  horse  to  the  wagon,  and 
cautioning  -Uncle  Rastus  as  to  what  part  he  was 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  77 

to  take,  bade  him  good-by  for  the  time,  telling 
him  to  be  on  hand  without  fail  at  the  hour  agreed 
on  for  the  races.  The  speed  of  the  horse  was  well 
known  to  Kirtley,  for  he  had  seen  it  in  many 
private  trials,  but  Uncle  Kastus  wanted  to  impress 
on  the  owner's  mind  that  Tie  had  developed  the 
speed,  and  that  he  could  vouch  for  the  horse's 
ability  to  win. 

As  Eirtley  started  down  the  road,  Uncle  Rastus 
took  a  northeasterly  direction  towards  his  home. 

Uncle  Rastus  was  a  character,  and  he  was  of  such 
a  disposition  that  the  whole  world  was  to  him  one 
eternal  source  of  enjoyment.  The  disappointments 
that  are  constantly  met  with  in  life  were  lessons 
which  taught  him,  by  contrast,  to  be  thankful  for 
the  benefits  he  enjoyed.  When  death  overtook 
some  one  he  loved,  his  grief  was  of  that  explosive 
kind  which  threatened  to  result  fatally ;  but  after 
abundant  wringing  of  hands,  copious  shedding  of 
tears,  and  violent  outbursts  of  sorrow,  he  always 
returned  to  his  normal  state,  which  was  one  of 
sweet  contentment  with  his  condition  in  life.  As 
he  often  said,— 

"  Wha'  fo',  chillun,  sh'd  yo'  cry  wid  grief  'caus' 
de  Lawd  punishes  yo' ?  Yo'  can't  all  us  'spec  ter 
eat  widout  de  cook  sometimes  spilin'  de  meat. 
Don'  complain  'caus'  yo'  gits  too  much  salt  in 
yo'  broth,  but  be  t'ankful  dat  de  Lawd  'mits  de 
bees  ter  make  honey,  and  yo'  knows  whar  de  bee- 
tree  am." 

7* 


78  MANVLITO. 

His  mind  was  full  of  odd  sayings.  He  was  always 
ready  to  extend  rough  but  touching  words  of  sym 
pathy  to  the  afflicted,  and  never  at  a  loss  for  wit 
when  repartee  was  essential  to  defend  himself; 
and  the  native  humor  with  which  he  was  known 
to  be  always  supplied  warned  his  disputant  that 
a  prompt  reply  would  be  forthcoming. 

He  was  short  and  very  stout,  and  he  often  re 
marked  that  "if  de  Lawd  had  made  him  a  little 
biggah  roun'  en'  a  little  sho'tah,  he  would  be  no 
good  nohow."  Then  he  would  continue : 

"  But  Ah's  got  no  complaint  comin',  fo'  de  wintah 
has  done  got  ter  be  ver'  cold  w'en  mah  ole  bones 
sufiah." 

He  was  often  asked  where  he  came  from,  but  his 
answer  was  always  evasive. 

"  Wha'  fo'  yer  wan's  ter  know  dat,  honey  ?  Ah 
'low  Ah's  heah,  en'  cum  ter  stay.  De  woodchuck, 
en'  de  'possum,  en'  de  'coon  am  in  de  woods.  Wha' 
makes  de  diff 'unce  whar  dey  cum  f 'um  ?  G'long, 
now,  don'  yo'  boddah  yo'  noggin  'bout  me.  Ax 
no  quest'ns  en'  I'll  tole  yo'  no  lies." 

Then,  seeing  he  had  the  best  of  his  inquisitor, 
he  would  break  into  a  hearty  "  Yah  !  yah  !"  which 
would  end  in  a  sizzle  between  his  teeth. 

"When  he  first  came  to  the  settlement  his  worldly 
possessions  consisted  of  a  pack  on  his  back  and  his 
clothes  tied  inside  a  huge  red  bandanna,  while  his 
boy  trudged  at  his  heels. 

He  was  constantly  advising  this  boy  about  the 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  79 

evils  of  the  world,  and  especially  those  to  be  found 
at  the  settlement.  "Wellington  had  taken  a  fancy 
to  him,  and  had  permitted  him  to  erect  a  cabin  on 
a  corner  of  the  farm  for  himself  and  boy.  Uncle 
Rastus  was  a  frequent  visitor,  in  fact  a  daily  one,  at 
the  farm-house ;  and  he  loved  Mrs.  Wellington  and 
her  two  children  with  a  devotion  which  was  almost 
idolatry. 

He  did  not  know  his  age,  and  when  asked  would 
reply,— 

"  Wha,  bress  yo',  honey,  Ah  can't  confo'm  eny 
def'nit'  idee.  Ah  'specs  hit  wuz  a  long  time  'go 
Ah  wuz  bawn,  but  Ah  disremembah  de  time.  But 
Ah  'membah  hit  wuz  a'ter  de  Rev'lutiona'y  wah. 
Fac',  mus'  ben  a'ter  dat,  'caus'  Ah  'membah  w'en 
jus'  big  'nuff  ter  fight  flies  in  m'lasses  bar'l,  mah 
mammy  useter  talk  'bout  Washin'ton  en'  dose  oder 
ginerals  w'ich  fit  fo'  dis  kentry." 

Like  all  darkeys,  he  was  passionately  fond  of 
music,  and  scarcely  a  night  passed  that  he  and  his 
son,  isolated  in  the  little  cabin,  did  not,  with  violin 
and  banjo,  while  the  happy  hours  away.  Uncle 
Rastus  had  a  voice  which  blended  the  flute-toned 
harmony  of  the  tenor  with  the  mellowness  of  the 
alto,  while  his  boy  inherited  his  mother's  voice, — a 
voice  of  such  singular  purity  and  sweetness  that  it 
thrilled  through  the  listener,  and  when,  moved  as 
if  by  inspiration,  he  raised  his  voice  to  the  full 
measure  of  its  strength,  the  birds  in  the  forest 
caught  its  tones  and  softly  twittered,  as  if  fearing 


80  MANULITO. 

to  lose  the  notes  of  a  voice  far  sweeter  than  their 
own. 

The  hoy  did  not  realize  his  great  gift.  He  loved 
to  sing,  hut  he  did  not  know  the  surpassing  sweet 
ness  of  his  own  music.  As  yet,  his  voice  had  not 
changed,  and  was  a  perfect  soprano.  His  father 
forbade  his  singing  for  the  men  at  the  village,  and 
when  any  one  remonstrated,  saying  that  the  boy 
might  earn  pennies  by  his  singing,  the  old  man 
would  reply, — 

"  Dis  yer  pickaninny  'longs  ter  me.  Ah  see  'im 
git  clo'es  ter  weah ;  de  Lawd  en'  Mars'  "Wellin'ton 
fu'nish  de  meat,  en'  de  yarth  fu'nish  de  bread.  Ah 
'low  we  git  'long  all  right  widout  mah  boy  sin  gin' 
fe'  men  who  don'  'preciate.  'Sides,"  continued 
Uncle  Rastus,  "  w'en  yo'-uns  is  sick,  or  yo'-uns's 
frien's,  or  et  de  chu'ch  on  Sunday,  den  yo'  heahs 
mah  boy." 

The  night  before  the  day  of  the  races,  Uncle 
Rastus  and  his  boy  had  finished  supper,  the  dishes 
were  washed,  and  the  old  man  sat  in  the  gloaming 
smoking  his  pipe.  The  little  log  cabin  presented  a 
weird  aspect.  It  seemed  almost  devoid  of  furni 
ture,  there  being  only  a  bedstead,  two  chairs,  and 
a  rough  pine  table.  The  fire  in  the  fireplace  had 
died  down  to  steady  coals.  The  old  man  was  in 
deep  thought.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  head,  and, 
turning  to  the  boy,  said, — 

"  Honey,  Ah  'low  dat  fiah  am  gittin'  low.  Put  on 
some  dem  hick'ry  knots  en'  punch  dem  coals  mo'." 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  81 

The  boy  did  as  requested,  then  picked  up  a  book 
and  began  reading  by  the  bright  light  of  the  fire. 
Uncle  Rastus  watched  him  with  pleased  intentness 
for  a  few  moments,  then  said, — 

"  Strikes  me,  honey,  yo'  is  consid'ably  abstracted 
in  de  p'rusal  ob  dat  book.  Am  jus'  cu'us  'miff  ter 
ax  yo'  wot  am  de  subjec'  w'ich  'peahs  to  prognos 
ticate  yo'  'tention." 

The  boy  closed  the  book,  and  said, — 

"  Robinson  Crusoe." 

"  Golly !"  ejaculated  the  old  man.  "  Dat  am  a 
great  book,  sho'  'nuff.  Missus  read  dat  book  ter 
me  yeahs  en'  yeahs  ago,  'fo'  yo'  wuz  bawned.  Ah 
tink  dat  Cruiser  great  man.  He  kin'  ob  a  harmit ; 
but  de  Lawd  wuz  wid  'im,  honey,  de  Lawd  wuz 
wid  'im,  en'  in  all  'is  trials  en'  tribullations  de 
Lawd  didn't  go  back  on  'im,  but  'bided  wid  'im. 
"We  kinder  Cruisers,  don'  yo'  t'ink  so,  Eph  ?  Only 
but  our  dog  en'  our  cat  done  gone  en'  died.  But, 
honey,"  continued  the  old  man,  as  he  laid  his 
hands  affectionately  on  the  boy's  head,  "  Ah  bress 
de  good  Lawd  dat  yo'  is  spa'ed  ter  me,  fo'  ef  de 
Lawd  done  gone  en'  tuk  yo'  f 'um  me,  sho'  as  dere 
is  'gaito's  in  de  Alabam',  Ah  would  pray  ev'y  day 
dat  Gabr'l  would  blow  his  hawn,  fo',  sho'  'nuff, 
Ah  wouldn't  wanter  lib  no  mo'.  But,  Eph,  Ah 
feel  kind  o'  lonesome  dis  ebenin' ;  don'  offun  feel 
dat  way,  leastwise  don'  show  it.  An'  dat's  wot  yo' 
will  fin'  ez  yo'  grow  oldah,  dat  de  man  who  is  allus 
tellin'  how  bad  'e  feels  w'en  'e  loses  'is  wife,  isn't 


82  MANULITO. 

de  man  who  suffahs  de  mos'.  Shaller  watah  make 
big  noise,  but  de  deep  watah,  'e  keep  quiet,  S'pose 
yo'  git  out  de  fiddle  en'  yo'  banjo,  en'  let's  hav' 
some  music." 

Eph  did  as  he  was  told,  but  the  melancholy  feel 
ing  which  seemed  to  have  control  of  Uncle  Rastus 
had  not  touched  the  boy,  for  he  gave  a  peculiar 
sliding  motion,  which  ended  in  the  merriest  kind 
of  a  jig.  He  looked  knowingly  and  pleadingly 
at  the  old  man,  begging  with  his  eyes  for  what 
he  wanted, — viz.,  an  accompaniment  with  clapped 
hands  and  a  perfect  beat  of  the  foot.  Uncle  Ras 
tus  shook  his  head  sorrowfully,  and  said, — 

"  No  !  no  !  honey !  Yo'  is  'titled  ter  hit,  sho',  but 
mah  h'aht  don'  crave  fo'  dat  kin'  ob  music  ter- 
night,  en'  Ah  don'  want  ter  do  wot  mah  h'aht 
don'  'gree  ter." 

As  the  boy  seated  himself,  he  handed  the  violin 
to  his  father,  and  continued  to  tinkle  on  the  banjo, 
humming  a  jig  to  himself.  Uncle  Rastus,  by  reason 
of  the  discord  of  the  sounds,  was  unable  to  tune  his 
instrument ;  and  at  last,  out  of  patience,  he  laid  the 
violin  across  his  knee  and  looked  at  the  boy  in  dis 
gust.  Eph  saw  his  error,  and  made  haste  to  apolo 
gize,  but  he  was  speedily  interrupted  by  the  old 
man,  who  said, — 

"Yo',  dar,  Ephrum !  Wha  yo'  done  gone  en' 
chuned  yo'  banjo  all  de  time  w'en  Ah  wuz  tryin* 
ter  make  de  connection  'tween  mah  A  en'  E  string. 
Yo'  knows  f'um  prev'us  'xperiunce  dat  dar  is 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  83 

nothin'  wot  miscomposes  me  HIO'  den  dat  same 
t'ing.  Now,  ef  yo'  t'ink  Ah'm  bleeged  ter  s'bmit 
ter  dis  'novation  ter  de  rules  ob  dis  house,  Ah  stan' 
c'rect'd." 

The  boy  showed  his  repentance  in  his  looks.  He 
also  saw  the  forgiveness  accorded  him,  for  his 
father  gave  him  the  fond  smile  he  anticipated  and 
loved  so  well.  They  played  together,  the  father 
leading,  the  son  sustaining  him  with  a  brilliant 
accompaniment ;  but  tiring  of  instrumental  music, 
Uncle  Rastus  nodded  to  Eph,  and  they  sang,  their 
voices  blending  with  the  harmony  derived  from 
practice  and  natural  sweetness, — 

"  Oh,  whar  sh'll  we  go  w'en  de  great  day  comes, 
Wid  de  blowin'  ob  de  trumpets  en'  de  bangin'  ob  de  drums  ? 
How  many  po'  sinners  '11  be  kotched  out  late, 
En'  fin'  no  latch  ter  de  golden  gate  ? 

"  No  use  fo'  ter  wait  twel  ter-morrer  ! 
De  sun  mus'n't  set  on  yer  sorrer, 
Sins  ez  sharp  ez  a  bamboo-brier. 
Oh,  Lawd !  fetch  de  mo'ners  up  higher." 

"Dat's  true,  Eph!  Dat's  true!"  exclaimed 
Uncle  Kastus,  "  De  great  ques'n  ob  de  day  am, 
*  Whar  shall  we  go  w'en  de  great  day  cums  ?'  Ah 
'low  whar  we  go  depen's  on  wot  we  do  yer,  an' 
Ah  want  yo'  not  ter  'sociate  wid  po'  w'ite  trash, 
fo'  now  dat  Ah  toles  yo'  ob  de  or'gin  ob  de  cullud 
race,  yo'  '11  bress  de  Lawd  dat  yo'  wuz  bawned 
black.  Jus'  lis'en  en'  Ah  '11  tell  yo'  de  story  ob 


84  MANUL1TO. 

de  or 'gin  ob  de  cullud  race.  Yo*  unnerstan', 
honey/'  continued  Uncle  Rastus,  as  he  turned, 
sitting  corner-wise  on  his  chair,  and  throwing  his 
left  arm  over  the  back  of  it  for  better  support  and 
to  obtain  a  nonchalant  position, — "  yo'  unnerstan's 
dat  de  story  ob  de  or'gin  ob  de  cullud  race  ain't 
ter  be  foun'  in  books,  but  hab  cum  down  f  um  giner- 
ation  to  gineration, — passin'  f  um  fadder  ter  son, — 
an'  Ah  gibs  hit  ter  yo'  ez  hit  wuz  done  tole  me 
yaars  en'  yaars  ergo.  Dar  am  no  disputin'  de  troof 
ob  it,  'caus'  Ah  pussn'ly  knowed  er  man  mo'n 
er  hundred  yaars  ole,  who  hed  kep'  trac'  ob  de 
cullud  race,  en'  'e  wuz  willin'  ter  swar  ter  hits 
troof. 

"  En'  in  ordah  ter  gib  de  whole  story,  Ah  mus* 
ax  yer  'tenshun,  en'  ax  yer  ter  trabble  back  wif  me 
ter  de  beginnin'  ob  de  wuld,  leastwise  nigh  onter 
hit.  Ez  yer  will  know,  in  dem  times  dere  wuz  a 
flood.  Dis  yer  flood  wuz  bro't  'bout  by  de  cussed- 
ness  ob  de  peeple.  De  Lawd,  he  'commodated  dem 
in  great  meny  ways,  but  dey  didn't  'preciate  hit, 
en'  all  wuz  kinder  coltish  en'  didn't  seem  ter  t'ink 
dat  sum  day  dey  mout  be  punished.  Co'se,  dey 
wuz  too  big  ter  be  whipped  like  chillun.  'Sides, 
de  Lawd  wuz  busy  'rangin'  t'ings  so  ez  ter  get  de 
wuld  runnin'  smood  en'  right,  en'  a'ter  dey  hed 
run  'long,  en'  kep'  gettin'  sassier  en'  sassier,  de 
Lawd  done  grown  tired  sech  foolishness,  en'  he 
sen'  fo'  a  gemmun  by  de  name  ob  Noah.  F'um 
wot  Ah  heah  tell  ob  dis  man  Noah,  de  Lawd  make 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  85 

good  s'lection.  So  de  Lawd  say  ter  Noah,  <  Noah, 
Ah's  done  been  tired  ob  dis  rambunksh'ness  ob  dese 
peeple.  Dey  is  too  big  ter  get  a'ter  wid  a  bar'l- 
stave,  en'  de  eo'se  ob  de  law  am  too  slow.  Ah 
has  'eluded  ter  sen'  a  shower  ter  dis  yarth,  dat  '11 
'stonish  dem  all.  Yo'  am  all  right ;  Ah  got  nuffin' 
gin  yo'.'  All  dis  time  Noah  ain't  sayin'  nuffin', 
jus'  keep  still  an'  lis'en.  So  de  Lawd  direc'  Noah 
ter  buil'  er  house,  en'  yo'  knows,  honey,  de  Bible 
sez  hit  wuz  a  yark.  So  de  Lawd  tol'  Brer  Noah 
wha'  ter  fin'  de  wood,  who  ter  hire  ter  buil'  de  yark, 
en'  gib  'im  sp'ific  d'recshuns,  so  dar  can  be  no 
m'stake.  But  yo'  knows,  Ephrum,  all  'bout  dat, 
an'  yo'  hab  read  in  yo'  Bible  Brer  Noah  wuz  a 
little  slow  in  buil'in'  de  yark.  But  de  Lawd  wuz 
pashun',  en'  sed,  '  Peg  'long,  Brer  Noah !  Peg 
'long !  Yo'  is  doin'  all  right.  Ah  'low  dere  won't 
be  eny  rain  twel  yo'  is  reddy.'  So  las'  de  yark  wuz 
done,  en'  Brer  Noah  announc'  dat  fac'.  Now, 
lots  ob  dese  yer  smart  fellers  laff  et  Brer  Noah,  en' 
loaf  'roun'  de  yark  en'  made  remarks.  '  Hi  dah ! 
Brer  Noah!  Wot  yo'  goin'  ter  do  wid  dat  big 
boat  on  dry  Ian'  ?'  Brer  Noah  'e  ain't  sayin' 
nuffin',  jus'  keep  on  en'  min'  'is  bizness.  At  las', 
on  Chuseday,  all  wuz  ready,  Brer  Noah  hed  eb'ry- 
t'ing  in  de  yark,  all  de  fambly,  de  fowls,  de  snakes, 
en'  de  animiles,  jus'  ez  de  Lawd  d'rected.  Den  hit 
'menced  ter  sprinkle.  Hit  hedn't  rained  fo'  long 
time,  so  de  peeple  outside  de  yark — de  onb'leebers 
— 'menced  ter  laff  en'  say, '  Dis  am  de  boss  wedder ! 

8 


86  MANULITO. 

jus'  de  t'ing  fo'  de  cawn!  But  Brer  Noah  'e  in 
yark,  'e  ain't  sayin'  nuffin',  but  keep  up  big 
t'inkin'." 

At  this  time,  the  boy  who  had  waited  patiently 
for  some  clue  that  would  lead  him  to  think  that 
his  father  was  going  to  disclose  what  he  had 
promised,  remarked, — 

"  'Scuse  me,  daddy,  but  wot's  dis  ter  do  wid  de 
or'gin  ob  de  cullud  race  ?" 

The  old  man  straightened  back  in  his  chair,  ap 
parently  much  hurt  at  the  interruption,  and  feel 
ingly  responded, — 

"  Pashuns  am  a  jule,  en'  Ah's  sorry  dat  a  son  ob 
mine  should  interrup'  'is  po'  ole  dad,  w'en  de  dad 
am  relatin'  an  ebent  w'ich  is  ob  de  greates'  im- 
portans.  Ah's  too  ole  ter  talk  nonsense,  en'  w'en 
Ah  talks  ter  yo',  allus  b'ar  in  min'  dat  de  ole  man 
am  all  right,  en'  dat  de  ruffes'  kernel  kivers  de 
sweetes'  meat  ob  de  nut.  Yo'  knows,  yo'  does,  dat 
de  harder  'tis  fo'  yo'  ter  get  de  sugah  f 'um  de  bar'l, 
de  sweeter  'tis  fo'  yo'  w'en  yo'  does  get  it." 

Then  looking  into  the  fire  as  if  to  collect  his 
scattered  thoughts,  he  took  his  spectacles  from  his 
nose,  wiped  them  with  his  handkerchief,  returned 
them  to  their  former  position,  and  said,  "Jee- 
himiny !  how  hit  did  rain !  Sho'  nuff,  honey,  hit 
cum  down  so  fas'  dat  cawn  crap  all  sp'ilt;  eb'ry- 
t'ing  ruined,  en'  de  yarth  couldn't  soak  up  all  de 
water.  Whoo !  what  a  lot  ob  water !  Eb'rybody 
drowned  outside  de  yark.  Noah  den  see  'im  all 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  87 

right.  Hit  rained  fo'ty  days  en'  fo'ty  nights,  in- 
cludin'  Fourt'  ob  July.  Noah  kinder  hated  dis, 
'cause  'e  wanted  ter  entertain  de  folks  wid  fiah- 
wu'ks.  Now !"  exclaimed  the  old  man, — "  now, 
yo'  soon  heah  de  or'gin  ob  de  cullud  race.  Ter  be 
sho',  fo'ty  days  en'  fo'ty  nights  am  a  long  time, 
en'  de  folks  in  de  yark  got  kinder  lonesum'-like, — 
dey  didn't  hev  cards  in  dem  days, — so  de  men 
ha'dly  knew  wot  ter  do  ebenin's,  en'  de  ladies, 
dey  couldn't  git  out  ter  see  de  lates'  styles,  so  dey 
wuz  handicapt  on  suthin'  ter  talk  erbout.  Co'se, 
dey  talked  about  de  wedder,  dar  wuz  plenty  ob 
dat,  but  ez  Missus  Noah  sed  ter  her  dawter,  '  Dis 
yer  wedder  is  so  hor'bly  hor'ble  dat  Ah  'low  we 
bettah  not  mention  hit.'  Den  de  dawter  she  reply, 
'  Yes,  ma,  Ah  t'ink  hit  miser'bly  miser'ble,  en'  an 
orful  damp  rain.'  But  one  ebenin' — now,  keep  yo' 
eyes  en'  years  op'n,  fo'  wot  Ah  toles  yo'  will  run  yo' 
bang  up  'g'in'  er  big  supprise, — one  ebenin',  w'en 
dey  wuz  studyin'  de  al-manacks  ter  see  w'en  dere 
would  be  a  change  in  de  wedder,  dey  heerd  a 
scratchin'  at  de  fron'  do',  en'  w'en  Miss  Noah  ope'd 
de  do'  in  walked  a  'Coon,  jus'  ez  big  ez  life.  'E 
didn't  say  nuffin',  jus'  looked  roun'  de  room,  den 
seated  hisse'f  neah  de  fiah  en'  looked  inter  de  blaze 
kinder  'stracted-like,  ez  ef  'e  had  suthin'  on  'is  min'. 
Keckon  de  dampness  hed  caused  'im  ter  ketch  col', 
'cause  'e  sneezed;  den  'e  didn't  say  nuffin',  but 
looked  kinder  'pology-like  et  de  ladies,  en'  wiped 
his  mouf  wid  'is  tail.  Dis  yer  proceedin'  wuz 


88  MANULITO. 

kep'  up  eb'ry  ebenin',  twel  de  ladies  allus  sent  der 
brudder  Sam  a'ter  de  'Coon  ef  'e  didn't  show  up 
eb'ry  ebenin'.  'Dey  all  'lowed  dat  'Coon  wuz  de 
smartes'  animile  dey  eber  seed,  en'  dey  reckon'd 
dey  hed  seed  'em  all.  Dey  wuz  great  frien's,  dem 
ladies  en'  de  'Coon,  en'  de  'Coon  got  so  family  us- 
like,  dat  'e  don'  make  no  hesitashun  'bout  gettin' 
on  de  ladies'  laps  en'  lettin'  dem  pet  'im.  De 
ladies  done  grown  ver'  fon'  ob  'im.  Las',  de  rain 
all  quit,  de  dove  sent  out,  en'  de  yark  landed  on 
de  mounting.  Golly !  but  eb'rybody  wuz  glad  ter 
set  foot  ergin  on  de  Ian'.  Po'  chillun,  dey  housed 
up  so  long  dey  almos'  wild,  en'  run  barefoot  en' 
holler  like  young  Injuns. 

"  On  de  fourt'  day,  a'ter  t'ings  wuz  kinder  gettin' 
strai't'n'd  'roun',  a  angel  cum  f 'urn  de  Lawd,  en' 
a'ter  'e  sed  'Howdy!'  ter  Noah  en'  de  res',  he 
axed  Noah  fo'  a  private  confab.  Noah  wuzn't 
'feared,  'cause  'e  hedn't  done  gone  done  nuffin'  ter 
be  'feared  ob.  A'ter  dey  hed  cum  out,  en'  de  angel 
hed  gone,  de  women-folks  wuz  cu'us,  en'  dey  'lowed 
dey  oughter  know  w'at  dey  wuz  talkin'  'bout.  But 
Noah  done  sed  nuffin'  'cept,  '  Wait  en'  see !  Wait 
en'  see !  Ah  has  de  powah.'  Den  de  ladies  wuz 
mo'  cu'us  den  befo'.  But  Noah,  'e  felt  sho'  'im 
hed  de  powah.  Sho'  nuff  'e  did,  en'  dat  day,  jus' 
in  de  dusk  ob  de  ebenin',  w'en  de  screech-owls 
wuz  hootin'  in  de  woods  en'  de  ffah-flies  wuz 
twinklin'  in  de  lowlands,  Noah  called  'is  family  ter- 
gedder,  en'  all  de  peeples  wot  wuz  saved,  en'  sed, — 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  89 

"  <  My  frien's,  'way  off  f 'urn  heah  dar  is  a  Ian' 
whar  de  sun  allus  shine  wa'm.  De  Lawd  wants 
ter  pop'late  dat  Ian'.  We  can't  span  eny  ob  yo'-uns, 
but  Ah  has  de  powah  ter  transmoggerfy  one  ob  dese 
animiles  inter  a  pusson,  an'  am  now  goin'  ter  done 
gone  en'  do  it.  Ah  ax  yo'  ter  choose  de  animile.' 

"  Den  dey  choosed,  sum  de  Elephantus,  sum  de 
Hippuspot'mus,  sum  de  Girasticutus,  w'ile  one  ob 

de  ladies  chose  de  Mouse;  but  Miss — Miss " 

and  the  old  man  scratched  his  head  and  tried  to 

recall  the  name, — "Miss Wall,  Ah  'clar'  t' 

goodness  but  dat  name  hab  'scaped  de  mashes  ob 
mah  mem'ry ;  but  enyway,  she  wuz  de  fav'rit'  dawter 
of  Brer  Noah,  en'  w'en  hit  cum  her  turn,  she 
walk  out  en'  say,  sez  she, — 

"  '  Ah  choose  de  'Coon ;  de  'Coon  am  mah 
choice.' 

"  Den  dere  wuz  a  great  clappin'  ob  ban's,  en'  de 
young  fellers  dat  wuz  votin'  fo'  de  Hippuspot'mus 
en  de  Girasticutus  couldn't  tumble  over  fas'  'miff 
in  changin'  der  votes.  'Cause  yo'  see  dey  wanted 
ter  shine  in  de  eyes  ob  Miss  Noah,  fo'  her  pa  wuz 
de  big  man,  en'  dese  young  fellers  wuz  willin'  ter 
stan'  in  wid  'im. 

"  En7  now,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Rastus,  "  we  cum 
ter  de  great  'xhib'shun  ob  de  powah.  Dey  fo'rned 
a  circl',  en'  one  ob  de  men  'e  bro't  de  'Coon,  led 
'im  wid  a  chain.  Dey  took  de  chain  off,  but 
couldn't  get  de  collah  off,  so  Noah  'lowed  hit 
wouldn't  mak'  eny  diff'runce,  en'  de  cer'mony 

8* 


90  MANULITO. 

perceeded.  Den  sez  Noah,  sez  he,  'Ah's  goin' 
ter  transmoggerfy  dis  animile,  dis  yer  'Coon,  inter 
a  man.'  Whoo !  Golly !  Jus'  'magine  how  dey 
took  dat!  De  'Coon,  he  don'  unnerstan'  dat  big 
wud, — 'im  don'  say  nuffin'. 

"  Den  Brer  Noah,  he  continue :  '  Wen  dis  'Coon 
'cum  a  man,  'e  be  hones',  full  er  fun,  po'  but  allus 
contented.'  Den  'im  say,  l  Conten'men'  better'n 
great  riches.'  Reckon  dat  so,  honey.  Suthin'  in 
dat,  sho'!  Den  de  'Coon  'e  look  at  Brer  Noah, 
en'  Brer  Noah  'im  look  at  de  'Coon;  Den  Brer 
Noah,  'e  rub  'is  han's  tergedder,  pull  up  'is  sleebes, 
don'  say  nuffin'  but  jus'  mesm'rize  de  'Coon. 
Den  de  'Coon  lay  down  en'  trem'l, — eb'rybody  look 
on  in  'stonishmen'.  Den  de  'Coon  move.  Whoa, 
dah !  Jiminy !  Now  wuz  de  powah  showed,  fo' 
de  'Coon  changed,  en'  grew  en'  grew,  twel  'Coon 
all  gone,  en'  dere  stood  big  brack  man.  Den 
eb'rybody  hoorah.  Jus'  den  Brer  Noah  say, — 

" '  Yo'  mus'  now  go  ter  dat  fa'-off  Ian'  en'  raise 
cotton,  cawn,  en'  watermillyuns.  Yo'ah  race  sh'll 
be  bless'd,  but  yo'  will  allers  hev  ter  wu'k  ha'd.' 

"Den  dere  wuz  a  whizzin'  in  de  aih,  en'  two 
bosses,  w'ite  ez  snow,  wid  a  kerridge  ob  gold,  cum 
fum  de  sky;  en'  a'ter  dis  brack  man  hed  shook 
han's  all  'roun'  'e  jumped  inter  de  kerridge,  de 
bosses  sta'ted  tru'  de  aih,  w'ile  de  light  dat  followed 
de  man  wuz  jus'  like  sho'-nuff  fiahwu'ks.  De 
bosses  flew  en'  flew  fo'  free  days  en'  nights,  en' 
brack  man  sleep  mos'  de  time.  Las'  'e  wake,  en' 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  91 

fin'  hisse'f  in  de  wa'm  kentry,  whar  wuz  dates,  en' 
palms,  en'  b'nanas.  He  stay  dere  en'  raise  large 
fambly.  Eb'ry  yaar,  w'en  de  watermillyuns  wuz 
ripe,  he  wish  ole  man  Noah  en'  his  chillun  'd  cum 
en'  see  'im ;  but  Ah  s'pec's  Noah  wuz  ver'  busy,  fo' 
he  nebber  cum  ter  see  'im. 

"But,"  continued  the  old  man,  sorrowfully, 
"too  bad!  too  bad!  dat  dey  didn'  git  de  collah 
off  de  'Coon,  fo'  up  ter  dis  time  de  po'  man  am 
strugglin'  wid  hit  roun'  'is  neck.  But  Ah  b'leebe, 
honey,  dat  de  day  '11  cum  w'en  de  yoke  '11  be  cas'  off. 
De  Lawd  knows  Ah  prays  fo'  dat  time  ter  cum.  De 
po'  w'ite  trash  hab  heerd  suthin'  ob  dis  story,  en' 
sometimes  Ah'm  'bleeged  ter  t'ink  dat  is  w'y  dey 
calls  us  'Coons." 

The  boy  had  listened  intently  until  his  father  fin 
ished,  then  said, — 

"  Sho'ly  yo'  don'  b'leeb  all  dat  story?" 

The  old  man  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  fire,  then 
replied, — 

"Wha,  honey,  Ah'm  'bleeged  ter  b'leeb  mos' 
ob  hit,  but,  in  co'se,  de  'zact  languidge  Ah  can't 
vouch  fo',  kase  dis  done  happen  long  time  ergo. 

'Sides Law  bress  yo',  honey,  is  yo'  sleepy? 

Ter  be  sho'  yo'  is.  Ah  see  dem  blin's  is  droopin' 
ober  de  eyeballs,  but  hoi'  out  li'l'  long'r,  honey, 
till  we  finish  de  music." 

After  Uncle  Rastus  had  finished  his  story,  he 
played  "  Money  Musk,"  the  "  Arkansaw  Traveller," 
and  other  familiar  songs,  but  instrumental  music 


92  MANULITO. 

did  not  touch  a  responsive  chord  in  his  heart.  He 
tried  to  banish  from  his  mind  the  melancholy  which 
seemed  to  have  control  of  him.  He  thought  that 
bright,  catchy  music  would  cheer  him  up,  but  it 
was  of  no  avail.  Then  he  said  to  his  boy, — 

"  Honey,  mah  life  dis  night  is  like  de  onwelcum 
cloud  in  de  cl'ar  sky ;  w'atsumever  Ah  does  don' 
cheer  me  up,  but  Ah  jus'  kinder  feel  ez  ef  Ah 
would  like  ter  be  'way  down  Souf  dis  night.  Mah 
h'aht  am  dere,  en'  mah  t'oughts  am  too.  Get  dat 
noo  piece  ob  moosic  dat  Mars'  Wellington  bro't  us 
f 'om  de  city ;  mayhaps  dat'll  char  me  up." 

The  boy  got  the  music,  and  they  sang  together, — 

"  Way  down  upon  de  Swanee  Ribber, 

Far,  far  away, 
Dere's  whar  mah  heart  is  turning  ebber, 

Dere's  whar  de  ole  folks  stay. 
All  up  and  down  de  whole  creation 

Sadly  I  roam, 

Still  longing  for  de  ole  plantation 
And  for  de  ole  folks  at  home. 

All  de  world  am  sad  an'  dreary 

Eb'ry where  I  roam, 

Oh  !  darkies,  how  my  heart  grows  weary, 
Far  from  de  ole  folks  at  home." 

After  they  had  repeated  the  chorus  in  subdued 
tones,  Uncle  Rastus  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  Ephrum !  yo'  sings  de  notes  an'  de  wu'ds, 
but  yo'  young  h'aht  don'  compr'hend  de  meanin' 
ob  all  dis.  Ah  hab  been  dere,  en'  now  Ah  knows 
de  way  back ;  mah  h'aht  tells  me  ter  go.  Ah  knows 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  93 

wha,  mail  nmdder,  mail  fadder,  en'  mah  po'  wife  is 
buried,  but  Ah  dassn't  go  back.  Eb'ry  night  w'en 
de  gloamin'  comes  on  Ah  'magines  Ah  heah  de 
mockin'-bu'd  singin'  en'  de  ole  folks  callin'.  De 
Lawd  knows,  dat  ef  Ah  is  brack,  Ah  has  senses, 
en'  feelin's,  en'  a  big  h'aht  dat  sumtimes  cums  up 
in  mah  t'roat,  but  de  tears  cums  an'  sabes  me  f'um 
dyin'  wid  a  broken  h'aht.  En'  what  de  song  say  ? — 
6  All  de  world  am  sad  en'  dreary  eb'rywhere  Ah 
roam.'  Dat's  jus'  de  way  Ah  feel,  en'  Ah  is  t'ank- 
fu'  dat  de  cu'us  can't  tell  f'um  mah  face  de  sorrer 
ob  mah  h'aht."  And  the  old  man  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  eyes,  and  used  his  handkerchief  vigorously, 
remarking,  "  'Pears  ter  me  dat  Ah  done  cotch  col'." 
Continuing  his  conversation,  he  said,  "  Le's  sing  de 
las'  vuss;  en'  put  yo'  cap'dastrophe  on  yer  banjo, 
en'  Ah  will  put  mah  knife  ober  de  bridge  ob  mah 
fiddle  en'  pick  de  strings.  En'  now  sing  de  las'  vuss 
sof  and  low." 

They  did  so,  this  arrangement  of  their  instru 
ments  subduing  the  tones  and  giving  a  tinkling 
melody  that  was  peculiarly  pleasant,  and  with  their 
sympathetic  accompaniment  they  sang, — 

"  One  little  hut  among  de  "bushes, 

One  dat  I  love, 
Still  sadly  to  my  mem'ry  rushes, 

No  matter  where  I  roam. 
"When  will  I  see  de  bees  a-hummin' 

All  'round  de  comb  ? 
When  will  I  hear  de  banjo  tummin' 

Down  in  my  good  ole  home  ? 


94  MANULITO. 

All  de  world  am  sad  an'  dreary 

Eb'ry  where  I  roam, 
Oh  1  darkies,  how  my  heart  grows  weary, 

Far  from  de  ole  folks  at  home." 

The  boy  sang  with  the  sweetness  he  always  com 
manded,  but  Uncle  Rastiis  was  affected  to  tears, 
for  the  words  carried  him  back  to  scenes  realisti 
cally  sad.  He  longed  for  comfort,  he  craved  for 
words  of  sympathy,  and  with  trembling  voice  said 
to  his  boy, — 

"  No  use,  Eph !  no  use !  The  speerit  don'  move 
me,  en'  Ah  can't  half  sing.  Yo'  sing  su'thin', 
honey !  Sing  su'thin, — su'thin'  yo'  t'inks  will  cheer 
up  yo'  ole  daddy." 

The  boy  touched  a  few  introductory  chords,  then 
his  voice  floated  softly  through  the  room  and  out 
into  the  still  calm  air.  Each  word  and  line  added 
to  the  intensity  of  his  feelings,  and  the  sentiment 
of  the  artist  within  him  took  possession  of  his  soul, 
and  the  mellow  tones  glided  through  the  air  chased 
by  the  trillings  of  his  bird-like  voice. 

The  old  man  laid  aside  his  instrument  and  seated 
himself  on  the  bed.  The  words  of  the  song,  de 
scriptive  of  plantation  life,  picturing  the  negroes 
in  the  cotton-field,  the  shocking  of  the  corn,  the 
gala-day,  the  barbecue,  the  dance  by  moonlight  at 
the  river,  the  master's  death, — all  this  recalled  to 
Uncle  Rastus  his  early  life.  The  boy,  as  if  en 
tranced,  heeded  not  the  old  man,  who,  carried  back 
to  those  early  times,  ejaculated, — 


UNCLE  RASTUS.  95 

"Yes,  honey,  dat  so!  Ah  sees  hit  all  ergin. 
Bress  de  Lawd  fo'  dis !"  And  sitting  there  on  the 
bed,  he  clasped  his  hands  and  gazed  upward. 

The  boy  sang  on,  his  accompaniment  blending 
in  perfect  change  and  shading  with  his  voice.  The 
old  man  swayed  to  and  fro.  At  last  the  boy  sang 
with  surpassing  sweetness,  in  tones  that  seemed 
those  of  a  voice  from  heaven, — 

"  Pity  him,  Lawd  !  a  po'  ole  man  I 
Sustain  him,  Lawd  !     Oh,  you  can  I 
He's  good  en'  kin'.     So  are  yo'  I 
Cheer  him,  Lawd  !     Carry  him  t'roV 

"Bress  de  Lawd!"  cried  the  old  man, — "bress 
de  Lawd  fo'  leavin'  me  dis  boy !" 

Then  Eph  changed  his  theme,  and  softly  sang  of 
early  days,  when  in  the  sunny  South  a  dusky  youth 
and  maiden  were  wed.  He  described  the  rejoicing 
over  the  birth  of  a  child,  the  long  sickness  of  the 
mother,  her  death,  the  flight, — until  to  Uncle  Ras- 
tus  the  voice  seemed  as  the  voice  of  his  wife  from 
heaven,  and,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands,  he  fell 
back  on  the  bed  and  sobbed,  and,  sobbing,  fell 
asleep. 

The  boy  kissed  the  old  man's  hand,  and,  gazing 
musingly  into  the  fire,  said, — 

"  Ah  nevah  seed  mah  muddah,  but  w'en  Ah  sang 
hit  seemed  ter  me  dat  she  wuz  neah  me,  en'  tole 
me  wot  ter  say,  en'  Ah  hopes  she  heerd  me,  fo'  Ah 
done  de  bes'  Ah  could." 


96  MANULITO. 


CHAPTER  YIL 

MB.    THOMPSON  AND   HIS   HORSE. 

"  If  we  do  but  watch  the  hour, 
There  never  yet  was  human  power 
"Which  could  evade,  if  unforgiven, 
The  patient  search  and  vigil  long 
Of  him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong." 

BYROIT. 

WHEN  Kirtley  left  the  old  darky,  he  proceeded 
leisurely  towards  the  village, — a  mode  of  progress 
which  was  a  necessity  as  well  as  a  pleasure,  for  the 
oxen  swung  along  in  that  slow,  peculiar  gait  that 
is  essentially  of  their  kind.  It  fitted  well  the  con 
dition  of  Kirtley's  mind,  for  he  was  in  that  state 
of  contentment  that  made  him  not  only  satisfied 
with  the  present,  but  happy  in  the  anticipation  of 
the  events  which  he  knew  would  transpire  during 
the  day. 

A  village  where  the  inhabitants  have  their  own 
world,  living,  one  might  say,  within  themselves; 
where  each  knows  the  daily  life  of  the  other ;  where 
sectional  jealousies  do  not  exist;  where  secrets  are 
almost  an  impossibility; — this  was  the  kind  of  a 
place  to  which  Kirtley  was  going, — a  village  where 
he  knew  personally  every  man,  woman,  and  child. 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  97 

This  day  lie  knew  would  be  one  of  constant  excite 
ment  and  pleasure,  the  inhabitants  vying  one  with 
the  other  to  make  fun  follow  fast  on  the  heels  of 
frolic ;  the  men  arranging  the  programme  of  sports, 
while  the  women  supplied  the  inner  man  with  both 
substantial  and  delicacies. 

Surely  the  day  was  propitious,  for  as  the  sun  rose 
the  sky  was  not  flecked  or  marred  by  a  solitary 
cloud.  As  the  day  advanced  the  generous  promises 
of  the  morning  were  more  than  fulfilled,  for  under 
the  genial  rays  of  the  advancing  sun  the  glittering 
frost  disappeared  and  the  air  was  as  soft  and  balmy 
as  in  spring. 

Kirtley  appreciated  the  day,  not  in  an  idealistic 
way, — he  was  too  practical  for  that, — but  his  admi 
ration  of  its  perfection  was  awakened  because  he 
saw  in  it  an  ideal  occasion  for  the  enjoyment  of 
out-of-door  sports. 

The  still  morning  air  echoed  again  and  again 
with  the  cracking  of  his  whip.  Kirtley  was  an  ex 
pert  in  its  use,  and  the  long  lash  unfolded  itself  at 
frequent  intervals  over  the  heads  of  the  oxen,  then 
shot  straight  out,  and  a  report  followed  like  the 
explosion  of  a  pistol.  The  oxen  were  accustomed 
to  this  diversion  of  their  master,  and,  although 
they  saw  the  lash  circling  and  unwreathing  itself 
above  their  heads,  and  heard  the  startling  report 
wThich  always  followed,  they  never  winced,  but 
swung  along  in  patient  resignation.  The  horse, 
also,  divined  the  intent  of  the  driver,  and  after  a 
«  g  9 


98  MANULITO. 

sudden  start  and  spring  at  the  first  crack  of  the 
whip,  followed  with  the  gentlest  docility  at  the  end 
of  the  wagon. 

As  Kirtley  tramped  along,  amusing  himself  by 
swinging  the  long  lash,  then  darting  it  out,  snap 
ping  off  the  tops  of  weeds  with  unerring  precision, 
he  remarked, — 

"  Wall !  wall !  But  this  is  a  perfect  day,  an'  ef 
the  boys  et  the  village  hev  made  up  the  right  kind 
ov  a  program,  an'  Bill  an'  the  Injun  shoot,  ez  I 
knows  they  will,  an'  this  hoss  does  wot  I  knows 
he  orter,  an'  the  boys  come  from  all  'round,  ez 
they  allus  does,  an'  they  wind  up  with  a  dance  at 
the  tavern,  then" — and  he  nodded  his  head  ap 
provingly  and  tried  to  suppress  a  laugh,  which 
ended  in  a  snort — "then  I  am  inclined  ter  think 
thet  the  sun  never  shined  on  a  day  whar  they  hed 
ez  much  fun  ter  the  squar'  inch  ez  we  will  see  ter- 
day.  But,  Jerry," — and  he  directed  his  attention  to 
his  dumb  listener, — "  w'en  we  go  home  you'll  be  a 
member  of  a  surprise-party.  I'll  be  thar,  too,  old 
boy,"  and  he  looked  around;  then,  as  if  satisfied 
that  there  were  no  other  listeners,  continued,  confi 
dentially,  "the  surprise  be  this," — and  he  closed 
his  lips  in  firm  determination, — "  I'm  not  goin'  ter 
drink  a  drop  ter-day.  I  know  I  hev  promised  this 
same  thing  afore,  an'  you  hev  seed  thet  I  got  home 
safe  an'  sound ;  but  ter-day," — and  he  slapped  his 
chest  approvingly, — "  ter-day  strong  drink  an'  I  is 
strangers.  Licker  is  all  right  fur  sprains,  bruises, 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  99 

an'  rheumatiz',  all  right  ter  get  up  a  man's  courage 
w'en  he  wants  ter  fight,  but  ter-day  licker  an'  I 
can't  hitch.  I  jes'  inten'  keepin'  away  from  him, 
'cause  we  like  one  'nother  too  well,  an'  we  allus 
agree  too  well, — so  well  thet  I  allus  give  in  an'  don't 
remember  jes'  wot  the  argooment  wuz  'bout  'til 
the  next  day,  w'en  my  head  aches  so  I  can't  think, 
an'  the  ole  woman  sez  thet  I  hev  been  makin'  a 
fool  ov  myself,  w'ich,  knowin'  she  is  a  truthful 
woman,  I  admit.  No  use  'sputin'  with  a  woman, 
Jerry,  'specially  ef  yer  knows  she  is  right.  But 
with  the  fellers  thet  I  know  will  be  at  the  village 
I've  an  old  score  ter  settle,  an'  I'm  goin'  ter  do  it, 
else  I'll  be  a  mighty  poor  man  w'en  the  sun  goes 

down  ter-night.  But "  and  he  stopped,  as  if 

something  of  vital  interest  had  suddenly  confronted 
him.  Then,  as  if  satisfied  it  could  not  be,  he 
snapped  his  fingers  impatiently,  and  said, — 

"No!  no!  I  won't  think  it!  I've  no  reason 
ter  think  so.  Uncle  Rastus  hes  allus  been  true  ter 
me,  so  hes  the  boy,  an'  w'en  they  see  how  much 
I  am  bettin'  they  won't  go  back  on  me.  I  would 
swar  by  thet  ole  darky,  an',  sence  the  father  is 
squar',  thet  gives  me  a  heap  ov  faith  in  the  boy. 
I'll  hev  a  talk  with  them,  then  watch  both,  fur  all 
things  is  fair  in  love,  war,  an'  a  hoss-race." 

By  this  time  he  had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the 
village,  and  the  oxen  swung  slowly  along  the  hard- 
beaten  road.  It  was  early  yet,  and  but  few  were 
abroad.  Kirtley  watered  his  oxen  at  the  old  town 


100  MANULITO. 

pump;  he  then  led  the  horse  to  the  trough,  and, 
hearing  light  footsteps,  turned  and  saw  young  Eph, 
the  colored  lad,  who  doffed  his  hat  and  stood  grin 
ning  at  him,  saying, — 

"  Good-mo'nin',  Brer  Kirtley  !  Ah's  heen 
watchin'  fo'  yo'  fo'  sum  time.  De  ole  gem'man, 
my  pa,  said  yo'  would  want  ter  see  me,  en'  I  was 
only  too  glad  ter  cum  ter  town  dis  day,  'caus'  ob 
de  cel'bration,  'specially  de  hoss-racin'.  En'  how 
is  my  pet  ?"  said  he,  as  he  walked  up  to  the  horse 
and  threw  his  arm  over  the  arched  neck  that  was 
bent  over  the  trough. 

The  horse  laid  his  ears  back  in  playfulness,  whin 
nied  his  greeting,  then  rubbed  his  head  against  the 
boy's  shoulder,  while  Eph  gently  patted  his  neck 
and  rubbed  his  nose  with  affection.  Kirtley  noted 
all  this,  saying, — 

"  Yer  seem  ter  be  very  fond  ov  the  hoss,  Eph,  an' 
he's  a  good  friend  of  yourn,  too.  Do  yer  think  he 
can  win  the  race  ter-day  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  exclaimed  the  boy,  eagerly.  "  He  can 
win,  en'  will  win  ef  I  has  my  way." 

"Your  way!"  replied  Kirtley,  in  astonishment. 
"  An'  wot  in  thunder  do  yer  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  Ah  mean,"  said  the  boy,  "that  yo'  gib  me  cha'ge 
ob  dis  hoss  ter-day,  let  me  do  wid  'im  ez  Ah  t'inks 
bes', — me  en'  de  ole  gem'man, — Ah'll  ride  'im." 
And  the  boy's  eyes  grew  brighter  as  he  continued : 
"  En'  w'en  I  am  on  'is  back  de  hoss  don'  lib  dat 
ken  beat  'im  a  mile." 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  1Q1 

Kirtley  looked  down  at  the  ground,  then  steadily 
at  the  boy,  and  said, — 

"  Ephrum,  I  have  in  my  pockets,  an'  whar  I  can 
lay  my  han's  on  it,  clus'  ter  a  thousand  dollars,  an' 
besides  Fm  goin'  ter  bet  cattle,  hosses,  an'  anything 
I  have.  I  don't  take  no  bluffs  ter-day  from  no  one. 
Knowin'  thet  I  am  goin'  ter  do  this,  air  ye  willin' 
ter  undertake  ter  win  fur  me  ?" 

The  boy's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  he  replied, — 

"Brer  Kirtley,  dat  hoss  'd  fly  ef  Ah  axed  'im 
ter.  Ah  lubs  'im,  en'  'e  lubs  me.  Ah  don'  want 
no  spuhs,  no  gad, — -jus'  de  op'chunity  ter  git  on  'is 
back, — -jus'  de  chance  ter  lean  ober  en'  whisper  in 

'is  years.  Den,  den "  and  the  youth  excitedly 

finished,  "Ah  don'  t'ink  a  teal  duck  or  a  sparrer- 
hawk  c'd  ketch  us.  Yo'  can  trus'  me,  Brer  Kirt 
ley,  en'  Ah  feel  sho'  Ah  can  win." 

"Wall!"  replied  Kirtley,  "I'll  think  it  over. 
You  take  the  hoss  now,  an'  don't  'low  no  man  ter 
tech  him  er  go  near  him,  far  the  gang  that  '11  be 
here  ter-day  '11  stan'  watchin',  an'  I  don't  want  ter 
give  'em  a  chance  ter  work  any  ov  their  tricks 
on  me." 

The  boy  looked  his  delight,  and,  seizing  the 
horse's  halter-strap,  said, — 

"  T'ank  yo',  Brer  Kirtley,  yo'  won'  regret  dis. 
Ah'll  watch  yo'  hoss,  en'  no  one  sh'll  tech  'im  or 
go  nigh  'im." 

At  this  he  led  the  horse  away.  The  curious 
villagers  by  this  time  had  surrounded  the  wagon, 

9* 


102  MANUL1TO. 

and  when  they  learned  that  the  huge  antlers  he- 
longed  to  the  charmed  huck  which  for  years  had 
defied  the  skill  of  the  most  successful  hunters, 
their  curiosity  was  still  greater.  But  Kirtley  had 
covered  the  animal's  body  with  blankets,  and, 
motioning  them  away,  spoke  in  an  authoritative 
manner, — 

"Stan'  back,  gentlemen!  Stan'  back!  The 
menag'rie  ain't  open  yet.  Wait  till  the  proper 
time  comes  an'  ye  sh'll  see  the  buck  in  all  his 
dead  glory." 

With  that  he  drove  his  team  along,  the  crowd 
moving  aside  to  let  them  pass  through,  and  when 
he  reached  the  stable  belonging  to  the  tavern  he 
placed  the  oxen  in  charge  of  the  hostler,  giving 
him  parting  instructions  not  to  let  the  deer  be  un 
covered,  for  there  would  be  a  time  and  place  for 
that.  Then  he  proceeded  to  the  tavern,  where  he 
was  accorded  a  hearty  welcome. 

In  another  part  of  the  village,  Wellington  and 
Manulito  were  seated  in  the  office  of  the  former. 
The  huge  fire  was  throwing  out  its  warmth,  pene 
trating  every  recess  of  the  room.  The  occupants 
had  evidently  been  discussing  some  disputed  ques 
tion,  for  the  Indian  said, — 

"  I  know,  Gray  Eagle,  what  you  would  say,  and 
how  you  feel ;  but  last  night  was  the  happiest  of 
my  life,  for  I  lay  awake  for  hours,  then  fell  asleep 
dreaming  of  the  deed  I  had  done ;  and  I  thanked 
the  Great  Manitou  that  he  had  permitted  me  to 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  1Q3 

save  the  life  of  my  brother,  the  man  I  love  better 
than  all  the  world  besides." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Wellington,  "  I  can  well  imagine 
how  you  felt,  although  I  have  amply  proved  to  you 
that  I  fully  and  freely  forgave  what  happened 
months  ago.  Up  to  this  time  neither  you  nor  I 
have  ever  mentioned  what  occurred  then.  I  thought 
we  never  would,  but  what  you  did  for  me  and  mine 
yesterday  permits  me  to  speak  freely,  and  seems  to 
make  more  holy  the  promise  I  gave  you  that  day 
in  the  woods, — to  be  always  your  brother.  I  always 
will  be.  I  shall  never  forget  that  dreadful  moment 
of  suspense,  when,  utterly  exhausted,  I  raised  my 
hands  over  my  head  and  closed  my  eyes,  expect 
ing  to  feel  the  sickening  crash  of  the  mad  brute's 
hoofs  through  my  head.  Then  I  heard  the  report 
of  your  gun  as  if  in  a  dream,  a  report  way  off  down 
the  stream,  and  then  I  sank  into  unconsciousness, 
for  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  on  the  bank  and 
you  were  rubbing  my  hands  and  limbs.  I  opened 
my  eyes  once  and  saw  it  was  you  ;  you  did  not  see 
me,  but  tenderly  kissed  my  hand." 

At  this  the  Indian  started  in  surprise,  as  if  to 
deny  it,  but  Wellington  softly  laid  his  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  said, — 

"  No,  Manulito !  Do  not  be  ashamed  of  that 
token  of  affection.  A  kiss  from  one  as  proud  as 
you,  and  at  such  a  time,  was  the  imprint  from  the 
lips  of  one  who  possesses  a  soul  second  to  no  living 
man's.  When  I  saw  it  was  you  I  drifted  gently 


104  MANULITO. 

into  the  sweetest  sleep,  and  dreamed  of  you  and 
me  hunting  together  in  the  warm  summer-time. 
How  long  I  slept  I  do  not  know,  but  your  voice 
and  that  of  Kirtley  awakened  me,  and  I  then  real 
ized  all  that  had  happened." 

As  Wellington  finished  the  Indian  dropped  his 
blanket  from  his  arms,  exposing  his  broad  shoulders, 
upon  which  the  firelight  flickered,  and  addressed 
his  companion. 

"  The  darkest  clouds  come  before  the  day,  and 
the  days  of  greatest  sorrow  are  followed  by  many 
happy  ones.  The  Great  Spirit  does  not  intend  that 
the  life  of  man  shall  be  always  like  a  winter's  day, 
cold  and  dreary,  but  strews  the  bright  and  pleasant 
ones  along  like  flowers  in  the  prairie-grass,  so  that 
at  times  we  find  them  where  we  least  expect  them. 
For  many  moons  the  heart  of  Manulito  has  been 
sad,  ever  since  the  meeting  in  the  forest.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  were  less  a  warrior  to  let  his  heart  grow  so 
heavy,  and  he  tried  in  hunting  and  in  other  ways 
to  throw  this  burden  from  him.  At  times  he 
did  so ;  it  was  but  for  a  short  time,  however,  for 
the  old  feeling  came  back.  His  heart  was  weary 
and  there  was  something  wanting ;  what,  he  did 
not  know,  but  he  felt  sad,  as  he  did  when  his 
mother  died.  Manulito  knew  the  Gray  Eagle  had 
forgiven  him, — that  did  not  trouble  him ;  but  it 
must  have  been  that  the  Great  Spirit  burned  with 
fire  the  heart  of  Manulito  until  he  knew  the  sin  he 
had  committed,  for  he  could  not  free  himself  from 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  1Q5 

the  remembrance  of  it.  But  when  the  Great  Mani- 
tou  directed  the  footsteps  of  Manulito  to  the  ford, 
and  gave  him  the  speed  of  the  deer  and  the  eye  of 
the  eagle  to  save  his  brother,  then  Manulito  felt  that 
his  sin  was  forgiven  and  that  he  could  once  again  be 
a  warrior  and  a  man.  Since  that  time  his  heart  has 
been  glad,  the  sun  shines  more  brightly  and  the 
time  passes  more  pleasantly,  for  he  feels  that  the 
Great  Manitou  has  forgiven  him  for  attempting  to 
take  the  life  of  his  brother." 

Wellington  seized  the  Indian's  hand,  and,  warmly 
pressing  it,  said, — 

"Let's  drop  the  subject,  Manulito,  and  talk  of 
what  we  are  to  do  to-day.  Shooters  will  be  here 
from  the  surrounding  country,  and  our  fame  is 
known.  Nothing  would  afford  these  visitors  greater 
satisfaction  than  to  outshoot  you  and  me." 

The  Indian  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  said, — 

"  When  two  men  shoot  better  than  the  Gray 
Eagle  and  Manulito  it  will  be  when  our  eyesight  is 
dimmed  with  age  or  we  are  in  our  graves." 

"  I  am  glad  you  feel  that  way,"  laughingly  replied 
Wellington,  "  for  I  am  sure  I  never  felt  more  like 
shooting  in  my  life.  We  ought  to  do  well  to-day, 
for  there  isn't  a  particle  of  wind  blowing.  But 
come,  let's  go  out  into  the  street.  It  is  nine  o'clock, 
and  some  of  the  people  will  gather  at  the  square 
to  hear  the  announcement  of  the  programme  for 
the  day." 

As  they  stepped  into  the  street  they  met  a  man 


106  MANULITO. 

who  was  well  known  throughout  the  West, — a  man 
who  never  denied  his  vocation  when  directly  ques 
tioned,  but  one  whose  personal  appearance  did  not 
indicate  his  calling.  He  was  born  and  raised  in 
Massachusetts.  His  early  training  and  education 
were  such  as  cultivated  parents  would  give  their 
children.  His  father  was  a  man  of  brilliant  attain 
ments,  who  desired  his  son  to  follow  mercantile 
pursuits ;  his  mother  was  a  woman  of  great  refine 
ment,  noted  for  her  charitable  deeds  and  generosity. 
The  son  had  every  opportunity  to  make  for  himself 
a  fortune  and  a  name,  but  he  was  led  away  by  evil 
companions  until  the  straight  path  of  honorable 
dealing  was  abandoned,  and  he  followed  the  vari 
able  but  fascinating  life  of  a  gambler.  He  was  of 
such  a  disposition  that,  whether  basking  in  the 
smiles  of  prosperity  or  laboring  under  the  ban  of 
evil  luck,  he  was  the  same,  always  smiling,  glad  to 
see  his  friends,  generous  to  all.  He  would  take 
every  advantage  of  a  man  when  dealing  with  him, 
but  afterwards  he  would  willingly  lend  to  his  victim, 
without  security,  more  than  the  amount  won  from 
him. 

His  favorite  game  was  with  cards,  and  whether 
playing  poker  or  risking  large  sums  in  faro  and 
roulette,  or  sitting  beneath  the  shade  of  some  large 
tree  playing  penny  ante  or  seven-up  for  twenty-five 
cents  a  corner,  he  was  equally  happy.  He  never 
played  for  fun, — that  is,  a  game  for  the  purpose  of 
idling  away  his  time, — for  when  invited  to  join  in  a 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  1Q7 

game  of  that  kind,  his  invariable  reply,  accompa 
nied  with  the  blandest  smile,  was, — 

"I  know  I  would  enjoy  your  company,  gentle 
men,  but  really  I  am  such  an  indifferent  player 
that  I  know  my  poor  playing  would  result  in  a 
loss  of  interest  in  the  game  to  the  rest." 

But  his  special  hobby  was  fast  horses.  He  did 
not  care  for  trotters,  believing  that  running  was 
the  natural  gait  of  the  horse.  This  theory  he 
dearly  loved  to  demonstrate,  and  at  his  breeding- 
farm  he  always  had  at  command  a  choice  lot  of 
youngsters,  or  three-  to  five-year-olds.  He  was 
a  great  believer  in  blooded  animals,  and  felt  that 
speed  could  be  attained  only  by  the  proper  admix 
ture  of  the  purest  blood. 

In  personal  appearance  he  was  fully  six  feet  tall, 
with  smoothly-shaven  face;  his  eyes  were  dark 
gray,  while  his  hair  was  jet-black  and  grew  long 
and  straight,  spreading  over  his  shoulders.  The 
constant  smile  on  his  face  was  not  repulsive,  but 
it  caused  one  to  feel  that  it  was  a  mask  which  con 
cealed  unexpressed  thoughts,  and  that  the  man  who 
confided  in  him  would  be  deceived.  Such  was 
Thompson,  whose  presence  Kirtley  had  anticipated, 
and  as  is  usual  with  such  a  man,  he  was  followed 
by  numerous  confederates  or  adherents. 

Wellington  had  done  considerable  business  for 
him  from  time  to  time,  so  that  their  meeting  was 
cordial.  Thompson  knew  the  Indian,  and  seeing 
him  in  company  with  Wellington,  gave  him  a 


108  MANULITO. 

kindly  nod  of  recognition,  as  he  grasped  the  law 
yer's  hand,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  Well,  Mr.  "Wellington,  how  are  you,  anyway  ? 
Growing  younger  and  handsomer  every  day,  I  see !" 

"No,  Ed,  I  can't  say  that,"  replied  Wellington, 
"but  I  have  no  especial  cause  for  complaint;  on 
the  contrary,  if  I  am  not  growing  younger,  I  am 
growing  stronger,  for  I  never  felt  as  well  as  I  have 
this  winter." 

"  The  fields  and  the  forest,  the  prairies,  the  wind 
ing  streams,  and  the  open  air, — it  is  to  these  he  owes 
his  good  health,"  responded  Manulito. 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Thompson,  "  for  I  lead 
a  roving,  unsettled  life,  and  I  never  enjoy  as  good 
health  as  when  I  am  knocking  around,  camping 
out  and  making  overland  journeys.  But  there's 
a  crowd  gathering  out  there  on  the  common.  Sup 
pose  we  go  out  and  see  what's  up.  Probably  they're 
arranging  for  the  day." 

As  they  neared  the  spot,  the  crowd  turned  and 
faced  them.  Then  a  great  shout  went  up,  and  a 
voice  cried  out, — 

"  Three  cheers  for  Wellington  !" 

After  these  were  given,  the  same  voice  yelled,  — 

"  And  three  times  three  and  a  tiger  for  Manulito, 
the  Indian  who  saved  his  life !" 

At  these  demonstrations  Wellington  blushed, 
and  glanced  affectionately  at  Manulito,  but  the 
Indian  looked  distressed,  for  he  did  not  care  for 
such  evidences  of  appreciation.  His  reward — the 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  1Q9 

saving  of  a  life,  that  of  his  best  friend — had  been 
enough.  Besides,  his  was  a  retiring  disposition, 
and  he  avoided  rather  than  courted  notoriety.  But 
the  crowd  cheered  him  again  and  again ;  and  when 
he  sought  to  get  away,  "Wellington  laughingly  seized 
his  blanket  and  said, — 

"  No,  no,  Manulito !  You  promised  to  stick  by 
me  to-day,  and  I  won't  let  you  go." 

The  Indian  saw  it  was  of  no  avail  to  attempt  to 
escape,  so  trudged  amidst  the  crowd  in  quiet  resig 
nation.  Wellington  knew  that  Kirtley  had  told 
of  the  previous  day,  and  regretted  exceedingly 
that  he  had  not  been  a  hidden  listener  to  the  tale 
that  his  friend  had  unfolded. 

The  crowd  had  placed  boards  across  the  wagon- 
box,  and  had  then  put  the  deer  on  top  of  them  so 
that  all  could  see  it.  The  men  and  boys  crowded 
around,  admiring  the  great  animal,  especially  its 
magnificent  antlers,  which  hung  over  the  wagon's 
sides  in  conspicuous  prominence. 

All,  or  nearly  all,  had  tales  to  tell  of  this  buck, 
the  finest  specimen  of  its  race.  A  few  had  seen 
it  in  life ;  many  had  seen  its  imprints  in  the  snow ; 
while  all  knew  of  its  ability  to  travel, — to  be  here 
one  day,  pursued  by  hounds,  while  on  the  follow 
ing  day  it  would  be  seen  quietly  browsing  perhaps 
a  hundred  miles  away.  It  was  impossible  to  reckon 
its  age,  and  now  that  it  lay  before  them  in  the 
rigidity  of  death,  insensible  to  its  surroundings, 
more  than  one  heart  beat  with  pity  at  the  recollec- 

10 


HO  MANULITO. 

tion  of  the  charmed  life  this  beast  had  borne  for 
so  many  years.  Indeed,  the  Indians  believed  it 
was  possessed  of  an  evil  spirit ;  that  some  one  had 
died  steeped  in  sins  and  wickedness,  and  that  the 
Evil  One  had  transferred  the  spirit  of  the  deceased 
to  this  deer.  While  it  lived,  the  dead  person's  soul 
would  be  in  direst  distress,  unable  to  obtain  rest  or 
forgiveness.  This,  they  said,  was  why  it  could  not 
be  killed  or  captured;  many  of  them  vowing  that 
they  had  shot  it,  only  to  have  their  bullets  fall 
harmless  to  the  ground.  The  dead  deer  disclosed 
a  history  of  a  life, — a  life  spent  in  forest,  prairie, 
and  dells.  The  great  body  was  scarred  here  and 
there  by  traces  of  bullets  which  had  reached  their 
mark  but  did  not  strike  a  vital  part.  Here  and 
there  on  its  head  and  on  its  limbs  were  white 
seams,  showing  where  hounds  had  bravely  attacked 
it,  but  in  vain.  No  wonder,  then,  that  the  villagers 
flocked  to  see  this  king  as  he  lay  before  them,  for 
they  knew  that  the  fact  of  his  death  and  the  names 
of  the  successful  hunters  would  be  heralded  far  and 
near.  Besides,  they  felt  a  justifiable  pride  in  those 
two  hunters,  and  they  believed  that  there  did  not 
exist  two  men  more  skilful  in  the  use  of  the  rifle. 
As  they  approached,  Kirtley  cried  out, — 
"  Welcome,  gentlemen  !  Welcome  !  I've  jes' 
b'en  tellin',  in  my  poor  way,  all  'bout  the  killin' 
ov  ther  buck.  'Course,  I  couldn't  tell  it  ez  well 
ez  sum,  f 'rinstunce  you,  Mr.  Wellin'ton,  but  they 
got  me  up^on  the  waggin,  'sisted  I  sh'd  tell  them 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE. 

the  hull  story  'bout  the  shootin'  ov  the  deer,  an' 
I  don't  know  wot  I  sed,  but  I'm  dinged  ef  I  didn't 
talk  jes'  like  a  Fourth  o'  July  or 'tor  fur  nigh  a 
half-hour." 

"  Hoop-la !  Bully  fur  you,  Kirtley !  You  sh'll 
be  our  orator  next  Fourth !"  exclaimed  a  voice  from 
the  crowd. 

At  this  Kirtley  looked  down,  seemed  confused, 
and  said, — 

"  Now,  boys !  Thet's  hardly  fa'r  ter  poke  fun  et 
me.  You  know  I  hev'n't  got  ther  gift  ov  gab,  nor 
the  big  wuds  ter  speak  at  sech  a  time,  but  ter-day 
my  speechifyin'  wuz  kinder  spontan'us-like,  an* 
wot  I  sed  I  couldn't  help,  fur  I  sed  it  afore  I 
knowed  it,  an'  didn't  'tend  any  ov  the  time  ter 
make  a  speech." 

At  this  time,  noticing  "Wellington  nearing  the 
wagon,  he  cried  out, — 

"  Here,  Bill !  Cum,  git  up  here  an'  'nounce  the 
program  ov  the  day !" 

Wellington  came  smilingly  forward,  bowed  to 
his  friends  as  he  passed  through  the  crowd,  and 
climbed  up  on  the  wagon,  where  he  could  see  and 
be  seen.  As  he  appeared  a  great  shout  rent  the 
air,  and  several  voices  cried  in  unison, — 

"  A  speech !     A  speech !" 

But  Wellington  raised  his  hand  to  ask  their 
attention,  and  said, — 

"  Friends  and  Fellow-Citizens :  I  appreciate  the 
welcome  you  accord  me.  I  appreciate  the  feeling 


112  MANULITO. 

of  friendship  that  I  know  dwells  in  your  hearts. 
I  appreciate  the  fact  that  you  are  not  only  willing 
but  anxious  that  I  should  make  a  speech  to  you. 
But  there  is  a  time  and  place  for  everything,  and 
you  must  agree  with  me  that  this  is  neither  the 
time  nor  the  place,  because  we  have  not  met  here 
to  listen  to  an  oration  or  the  discussion  of  any  sub 
ject,  but  solely  to  pass  this  day  in  such  a  manner 
that  those  who  actively  participate  may  feel  they 
have  been  in  the  dwelling-place  of  hospitable  citi 
zens,  and  have  been  accorded  a  fair  field  for  the 
exhibition  of  their  special  accomplishments  in  the 
way  of  skill ;  while  the  others,  the  larger  class,  who 
are  here  not  as  active  participators  but  as  spectators, 
will,  when  they  leave  this  village  to-night,  depart 
with  a  sincere  feeling  of  satisfaction, — a  satisfaction 
derived  from  all  they  have  seen  and  enjoyed, — so 
that  they  can  say  in  their  hearts  that  this  day  is  one 
long  to  be  remembered,  and  one  of  the  pleasantest 
in  their  lives. 

"As  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Entertain 
ment,  I  desire  to  announce  the  programme  of  the 
day,  which  will  be  as  follows : 

"First,  foot-races.  After  their  conclusion,  din 
ner.  Then  rifle-shooting  for  prizes,  followed  by 
fancy  shooting  by  experts.  And  the  day's  sports 
to  conclude  with  a  grand  sweepstake  race,  mile 
heat,  best  two  in  three. 

"  After  this  there  will  be  a  grand  supper  served 
by  the  ladies  of  the  village,  free  to  everybody ;  and 


MR.   THOMPSON  AND  HIS  HORSE.  H3 

at  night  we  will  conclude  the  day's  sports  with  a 
dance  over  there  at  the  new  hotel. 

"  And  now,"  he  continued,  "  let  every  one  seek 
enjoyment,  for  this  day  we  are  servants  of  the 
people,  and  bound  by  the  sacred  ties  of  hospitality 
to  make  your  time  pass  gayly.  No  sighs  nor  tears 
to-day,  but  let  everybody  laugh  and  have  a  jolly 
time.  Forget  your  troubles  and  your  misfortunes ! 
I  wish  to  say  here  that  we  hope  that  you  will  all 
stay  throughout  the  entire  day,  for  the  horse-race 
promises  to  be  especially  good,  as  Mr.  Thompson 
is  here  from  a  distance,  and  has  with  him  a  very 
fleet  horse,  *  Imp  o'  Darkness,'  which  he  has  entered 
in  the  race.  Mr.  Kirtley  has  also  entered  a  horse, 
*  Sweet  Marjorum,'  and  there  are  several  other 
entries.  Thanking  you  for  your  attention,  and 
asking  you  now  to  join  us  in  the  sports  of  the  day, 
we  will  begin  at  once." 


10* 


114  MANULITO. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

A   GALA   DAY   AT   THE   VILLAGE. 

"  If  all  the  year  were  playing  holidays, 
To  sport  would  be  as  tedious  as  to  work ; 
But  when  they  seldom  come,  they  wished-for  come, 
And  nothing  pleaseth  but  rare  accidents." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

As  Wellington  jumped  down  from  the  wagon 
his  hearers  vigorously  applauded  him;  then,  as 
they  wended  their  way  to  the  grounds  where  the 
sports  were  to  occur,  all  interest  seemed  to  centre 
in  the  race,  one  saying  to  another, — 

"  Take  my  advice,  don't  you  bet  a  cent  on  that 
hoss-race  !  '  Imp  o'  Darkness !'  Why  don't  they 
call  him  by  his  right  name  ?  for  he  is  the  devil,  sure 
enough,  to  run. 

"  Thompson  is  pretty  cute  to  come  strayin'  in 
here.  Probably  thinks  we  don't  know  of  this  hoss. 
That's  all  right,"  continued  the  speaker,  "  but  ef 
he's  playin'  me  fur  a  sucker,  he's  goin'  to  get  fooled, 
'cause  I  know  him  an'  all  his  hosses  too  well.  He 
ain't  comin'  here  fur  his  health." 

"  So  Kirtley  has  a  hoss,"  exclaimed  his  com 
panion.  "  Wall,  gener'ly  speakin',  Kirtley  is  up  ter 
snuff,  but  I  don't  imagine  he  has  any  idee  his  hoss 
will  win,  but  he  jes'  wants  ter  make  some  fun.  He 


A   GALA  DAY  AT  THE  VILLAGE.  H5 

allus  has  some  pretty  fair  bosses,  but  law !  he  ain't 
fool  enough  ter  bet,  leastwise  I  wouldn't  think  so. 
Thompson  skinned  him  last  year  outen  several 
hundred  dollars,  an'  I  guess  he's  had  'nough  of 
Thompson  an'  his  crowd.  Et  ther  same  time, 
Kirtley  is  gritty!  His  gizzard  is  full  of  sand, 
an'  ef  he  gits  'bout  two-thirds  under  sea, — licker 
makes  him  nervy, — he  'ill  bet,  an'  keep  bettin'. 
But  there's  no  use  foolin'  with  him,  fur  ef  he  takes 
a  notion  his  boss  can  run — let  him  go.  No  use 
interferin' !  You  can't  stop  him.  It's  the  old  story 
'bout  a  fool  an'  his  money." 

Those  in  attendance  were  bent  on  amusement, 
and  now  that  the  exercises  of  the  day  were  to 
begin,  they  surged  forward,  a  jolly  crowd,  ready 
to  shout  and  laugh  on  the  least  possible  occasion. 

When  the  names  of  the  entries  in  the  foot-race 
were  called  there  was  manifest  surprise,  for  it  was 
ascertained  that  Manulito  was  not  among  the  num 
ber.  His  fame  as  a  runner  was  well  known,  for 
he  had  participated  in  many  races,  and  had  never 
been  defeated.  The  committee  called  on  him  and 
tried  to  induce  him  to  reconsider  his  decision,  but 
it  was  of  no  avail.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  give  his 
reason,  but  said, — 

"  When  Manulito  fires  his  rifle,  his  aim  must  be 
true,  his  nerves  steady,  his  blood  cool.  This  can 
not  be  if  Manulito  runs  races." 

As  the  crowd  much  preferred  an  exhibition  of 
the  Indian's  shooting,  they  did  not  insist  on  his  run- 


116  MANULITO. 

ning.  But  there  are  always  plenty  to  join  in  a  foot 
race  at  a  country  meet,  and  this  was  no  exception. 
It  was  amusing  to  see  the  costumes  in  which  some 
of  them  ran;  several  were  in  their  stocking  feet, 
and  one  fellow  was  barefooted ;  but  the  prevailing 
style  was  for  the  bareheaded  runner  to  appear  in 
his  undershirt,  trousers  rolled  up,  stocking  feet, 
and  with  a  leather  belt,  drawn  taut  for  the  occa 
sion,  around  his  waist. 

As  they  began  disrobing  for  the  race,  Thompson 
stood  near,  and  remarked, — 

"  Gentlemen,  you  are  going  to  see  a  fine  exhibi 
tion  of  speed ;  I  know  it  from  the  active  young  men 
who  will  run.  At  the  same  time,  it  seems  to  me 
that  more  ought  to  engage,  and  if  I  were  a  young 
man  I  surely  would.  This  young  man  at  my  side 
says  he  is  a  stranger  here,  but  thinks  he  would  like 
to  try  with  the  others." 

"  Good  for  him !  The  more  the  merrier !"  ex 
claimed  several. 

Kirtley  stood  near,  and  quietly  remarked, — 
"  Do  yer  think  this  young  feller  can  run,  Ed  ?" 
"  Why,  Mr.  Kirtley,"  replied  Thompson,  "I  don't 
know,  I'm  sure.     He  says  he  is  a  stranger  here; 
maybe  he  can  run,  maybe  he  can't.     At  the  same 
time,  while  I  don't  often  bet,  I  would  be  willing 
to  wager  ten  dollars  that  he  beats  any  one  you 
eay." 

"  Make  it  ten  ag'in'  the  balance,  an'  I'll  go  ye." 
"  All  right,  I'll  do  it,"  responded  Thompson. 


A   GALA  DAY  AT  THE  VILLAGE.  H7 

The  money  was  placed  in  a  bystander's  hands, 
and  the  young  man  leisurely  walked  out  among 
the  other  racers.  As  he  joined  them,  he  was 
warned  to  get  ready.  At  this  he  plunged  down 
into  his  pocket,  and  produced  a  low  pair  of  shoes, 
— light,  but  with  corrugated  soles  to  avoid  slipping. 
He  then  divested  himself  of  his  outer  clothing,  and 
stood  before  them  arrayed  in  flesh-colored  tights. 

The  racers  toed  the  scratch,  their  left  feet  and 
arms  well  forward,  while  their  right  arms  were 
parallel  with  their  bodies  and  their  hands  firmly 
clinched.  After  two  or  three  false  starts,  they 
were  off  amid  the  shouts  of  the  multitude.  For 
the  first  seventy-five  yards  one  of  the  resident 
runners  seemed  to  have  the  best  of  it,  but  the 
stranger  gained,  passed  first  one,  then  another, 
until  he  was  even  with  the  leader  at  ninety  yards ; 
then  with  a  spurt  which  could  not  be  denied  he 
bounded  ahead  and  won  by  a  few  feet.  As  the 
result  was  announced  there  were  not  any  cheers 
given,  but  many  significant  winks  were  passed, 
and  some  one  quietly  remarked, — 

"  Purty  cute  o'  Thompson,  wasn't  it,  ringin'  in 
thet  perfeshnal  ?" 

His  neighbor  replied,  "  Sarved  old  Kirtley  right 
to  lose  his  ten.  He  oughter  knowed  better  nor  ter 
bet  ag'in'  Thompson.  But  you  mark  my  word,  he's 
begun  bettin',  an'  he'll  keep  it  up  an'  go  home 
broke." 

At  this  juncture  the  ringing  of  the  town  bell 


118  MANULITO. 

announced  to  all  that  dinner  was  ready,  and  a  tem 
porary  adjournment  of  the  sports  of  the  day  was 
proposed.  The  crowd  repaired  to  the  tavern,  well 
satisfied  with  what  they  had  seen  thus  far,  and 
feeling  that  the  afternoon's  events,  the  shooting 
and  the  horse-racing,  would  add  still  more  to  the 
enjoyment  of  the  occasion. 

When  the  majority  reached  the  vicinity  of  the 
hotel,  Kirtley  slipped  away  and  went  to  the  stable 
where  his  horse  was  in  possession  of  the  colored  lad. 
He  thought  his  departure  was  unperceived,  but,  as 
he  entered  the  door,  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder, 
and,  turning  in  surprise,  he  saw  Manulito.  He  was 
impatient  at  the  interruption,  and  said,  sharply, — 

"  Wall  ?" 

The  Indian  looked  steadily  at  him,  and  said, — 

"  When  the  wolves  are  abroad  the  sheep  need 
protection.  Graybeard  is  not  afraid  of  the  wolves. 
In  open  battle  he  has  no  cause  to  be,  but  the  one 
with  the  smooth  tongue  and  mild  looks  is  followed 
by  a  pack  which  wait  for  him  to  strike.  Then  they 
will  snarl  and  rend  the  prey  he  has  bitten." 

"  I  onderstan',  Manulito ;  yer  want  ter  put  me 
on  my  guard  ag'in'  Thompson  an'  his  gang.  I'm 
jes'  as  much  'bleeged  ter  yer,  an'  'preciate  yer 
good  intentions,  but  I  know  wot  I'm  doin'." 

The  Indian  persevered,  and  said, — 

"  When  the  cow  beats  the  deer,  when  the  sheep 
beats  the  antelope,  then  can  the  farmer's  horse  beat 
the  thoroughbred." 


A   GALA   DAY  AT  THE  VILLAGE.  H9 

"  Oh,  I  see  !"  exclaimed  Kirtley.  "  Yer  think 
I've  taken  a  hoss  from  haulm'  wood,  an'  expect 
with  it  ter  beat  Imp  o'  Darkness.  I've  got  a  heap 
ov  faith  in  yer,  ef  yer  air  an  Injun ;  yer  know  I 
hev  hed  sence  yer  helped  Bill  outer  thet  scrape  on 
the  "Waps',  an'  I  want  yer  to  step  in  here  with  me 
an'  look  at  a  hoss,- — a  hoss  wot  is  a  hoss.  Yer  a 
jedge,  an'  wot  yer  sees  don't  mention  ter  nobody, 
fur  ther's  goin'  ter  be  a  supprise  this  arternoon.  I 
know  I  be  old,  but  yer  go  down  in  yer  pockets  an' 
bet  yer  las'  dollar  on  this  hoss.  I'm  goin'  ter,  yer 
kin  bet  yer  life  on  thet." 

But  the  Indian  felt  that  Kirtley  was  over-confi 
dent,  and  shook  his  head  discouragingly.  As  they 
approached  the  stall  where  the  horse  stood,  the 
negro  lad  stepped  out  and  said, — 

"  Ah's  heah,  Brer  Kirtley ;  Ah's  been  heah  all  de 
time.  No  one  done  tech  dis  hoss  'ceptme  an' " 

"  Yes,  sah,  dat  am  true,"  responded  another 
voice,  and  Uncle  Rastus  stepped  out  of  another 
stall.  "  Yes,  sah,"  said  Rastus.  "  No  one  done 
tech  dis  hoss;  but  one  dem  gambler  fellahs  done 
kum  'roun'  heah, — 'e  didn't  see  me, — an'  'e  talked 
sweet  ter  Eph,  den  wanted  ter  look  at  de  hoss's 
mout',  jus'  ter  see  how  ole  'e  am.  Den  w'en  young 
Eph  'ject,  den  de  gambler  fellah  sez,  sez  he,  '  Am 
goin'  ter  see  anyhow.'  Yo'  knows,  Brer  Kirtley, 
Ah  was  baun  an'  bred  in  de  Souf,  an'  knows  wot 
dis  fellah  am  up  ter, — ter  dope  de  hoss.  So  Ah  sez, 
'  Yo'  want  ter  see,  does  yo'  ?  Den  Ah  calls  yoV 


120  MANULITO. 

An'  at  dat  Ah  stahts  fo'  'm,  an'  'e  stahts  fo'  de 
do' ;  but,  bress  mah  h'aht,  ef  dis  foot  ob  mine  didn't 
ketch  'm,  an'  Ah  spec's  w'en  'e  eats  's  dinnah,  'e 
won't  ax  fo'  a  cheer." 

Kirtley  saw  his  interests  were  being  protected, 
and  thanked  both  father  and  son.  The  old  darky 
edged  up  to  Kirtley,  and  said, — 

"  Is  yo'  goin'  ter  bet  much,  Brer  Kirtley,  on  dis 
hoss-race  ?" 

"  Yaas,"  responded  that  worthy.  "  Yaas,  I'm 
goin'  ter  bet  more'n  I  ever  bet  afore." 

"  Law  me !"  exclaimed  Uncle  Rastus,  "  dat's  sand, 
sho'  'nuff;  but  den,  Ah  don'  b'leeb  in  hit,  an'  Ah 
don'  t'ink  no  good  comes  f'um  money  made  in 
bettin'." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  Kirtley.  "  You  air  mealy- 
mouthed.  Yer  got  r'ligion,  that's  wot's  the  trouble 
with  yer." 

"  Trouble  wid  me,  Brer  Kirtley  ?  De  Lawd 
bress  yo',  Ah  don'  borrer  no  trouble  'cause  Ah  got 
a  little  'ligion."  And  he  continued,  feelingly :  "  Ah 
wish  yo'  had  it  too.  Hit  would  do  yo'  mo'  good 
dan  anyt'ing  yo'  will  git  in  dis  wu'ld.  Ah  ain't 
'shamed  to  'knowledge  it  fo'  man,  an'  Ah  say  right 
heah,  ef  de  Lawd  dis  minnit  was  ter  send  down 
salvation  ter  yo',  right  smack  t'roo  de  roof  ob  dis 
stable,  Ah  don'  keer  how  much  de  'xpense  am,  po' 
as  Ah  be,  Ah  would  chee'fully  pay  de  damages,  jus' 
ter  see  yo'  git  'ligion." 

Kirtley  smiled  and  instructed  the  boy  to  lead  out 


A   GALA  DAY  AT  THE  VILLAGE.  121 

the  horse.  "When  Eph  did  so,  Manulito,  who  was 
an  excellent  judge  of  horses,  loosened  his  hlanket 
from  his  shoulders,  throwing  it  carelessly  around 
his  waist,1  and  looked  eagerly  at  Kirtley.  Kirtley 
enjoyed  the  surprised  look,  and  said, — 

"  Never  mind  me,  Manulito ;  I'm  not  goin'  ter 
run;  it's  the  hoss  thet's  goin'  ter  do  thet.  Look  at 
him  an'  let  me  know  wot  yer  thinks." 

The  Indian  gave  one  quick  glance,  which  covered 
the  animal,  and  said, — 

"  Horse  born  and  bred  where  the  summer-time 
lasts  all  winter ;  horse's  home  same  as  the  mocking 
bird's." 

At  this  Uncle  Rastus  broke  into  a  loud  "  Yah ! 
yah!  Yo'  can't  fool  'im.  Yo'  didn't  fool  me, 
nuther.  Dat  hoss  kum  f'um  Kaintuck." 

While  Manulito  was  admiring  the  horse,  the  ani 
mal  stood  as  quietly  as  a  lamb,  except  to  occasionally 
rub  his  nose  against  young  Eph,  soliciting  the 
caresses  he  knew  he  would  receive.  Manulito 
noted  every  point  of  his  contour :  the  dark  hazel 
eyes  that  looked  so  spirited,  yet  had  the  mildness 
of  a  gazelle,  the  small  pointed  ears,  the  transpar 
ent  nostrils,  the  deep  chest  with  the  lung-power 
so  well  concealed,  the  strong  forearms ;  indeed,  all 
the  elements  of  speed  essential  to  a  racer  were 
possessed  to  a  marked  degree.  Sweet  Marjorum 
was  a  dark  sorrel  horse,  with  a  long,  fine  tail  which 
nearly  reached  the  ground,  and  his  only  conspicuous 
mark  was  a  spot  of  white  on  the  forehead. 

11 


122  MAXULITO. 

"When  Manulito  had  feasted  his  eyes  on  this 
equine  wonder,  he  said, — 

"  'Twas  such  horse  as  this  that,  when  Manulito 
was  a  child,  his  father  owned;  gentle  as  a  kitten, 
obedient  as  a  spaniel,  brave  as  a  lion,  fleeter  than 
the  wind.  On  the  prairies  no  enemy  could  escape 
my  father — the  great  chief — when  he  rode  his 
horse.  This  one  looks  the  same ;  nothing  can  beat 
him." 

"  Bully  fur  you,  Manulito !  Bully  fur  you !  JSTow 
yer  talkin'  sense.  I  knowed  yer  wuz  a  good  jedge 
of  a  hoss,  so  I  showed  yer  one." 

As  they  finished  their  conversation,  the  young 
colored  lad  approached  Kirtley  and  said,  impres 
sively, — 

"  Brer  Kirtley,  yo'  promised  me  dat  Ah  sh'd  hab 
cha'ge  ob  dis  hoss  an'  ride  'im.  As  de  Lawd  is 
my  jedge,  Ah  will  do  de  bes'  Ah  can  fo'  yo'.  But 
Ah  wants  ter  ride  mah  way,  an',  no  mattah  wot 
'peahs  ter  happen  ter  de  hoss,  Ah  want  yo'  ter  keep 
on  bettin'  till  Ah  tells  yo'  ter  stop.  De  hoss  an' 
me  on'erstan'  one  'nudder,  an'  ef  yo'  will  bet,  den 
Ah'll  try  an'  make  yo'  a  heap  o'  money." 

Kirtley  demurred  to  this,  not  being  willing  to 
risk  large  sums  of  money  on  a  boy's  whim,  but 
Uncle  Rastus  felt  that  Eph  would  bring  the  horse 
in  a  winner,  and  Manulito  was  so  impressed  with 
the  lad's  sincerity  that  they  prevailed  on  Kirtley  to 
consent  to  his  demands.  As  Kirtley  and  the  Indian 
left  the  stable  to  go  to  dinner,  Eph  threw  his  arms 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  123 

around  the  horse's  neck  and  patted  him  affection 
ately,  saying,— 

"  Honey,  I  knows  we  will  win, — I  knows  it." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  HORSE-RACE. 

"  Kound-hoof  d,  short-jointed,  fetlocks  shag  and  long, 

Broad  breast,  full  size,  small  head,  and  nostrils  wide, 
High  crest,  short  ears,  straight  legs,  and  passing  strong, 

Thin  mane,  thick  tail,  broad  buttock,  tender  hide : 
Look,  what  a  horse  should  have,  he  did  not  lack, 
Save  a  proud  rider  on  so  proud  a  back." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

IN  those  early  days  the  principal  resort  for  all 
loungers — those  who  had  leisure  time  and  those 
who  wanted  to  hear  the  latest  news — was  the  bar 
room  of  a  tavern.  It  was  not  a  drinking-resort,  but 
it  had  not  gained  the  dignified  name  of  office.  It 
was  therefore  to  be  expected  that  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  dinner  those  interested  in  sports  would  find 
themselves  in  this  bar-room.  The  air  was  blue  with 
tobacco-smoke,  and  animated  discussions  were  being 
carried  on  in  all  parts  of  the  room,  the  topics  being 
the  rifle-shoot  and  the  race.  It  was  generally  con 
cluded  that  the  prize  for  rifle-shooting  would  fall 
either  to  Wellington  or  the  Indian.  But  a  few, 


124  MANUL1TO. 

whose  desires  were  probably  father  to  the  thought, 
said  that  the  chances  were  strong  that  the  prize 
would  go  to  some  outsider. 

The  trophy  was  on  exhibition  at  the  hotel,  and  as 
it  was  passed  around,  many  were  the  expressions 
of  admiration  it  elicited.  The  eyes  of  old  hunters 
dwelt  on  it  with  eagerness,  for  to  them,  as  with  all 
excellent  shots,  it  was  not  the  intrinsic  value  of  the 
article  contended  for,  but  the  winning  from  those 
who  were  computed  equal  to  themselves  in  skill, 
that  afforded  them  the  greatest  pleasure  and  satis 
faction.  They  were  not  to  be  blamed  for  looking 
with  solicitous  eyes  on  the  prize.  It  was  a  hand 
some  powder-horn,  novel  in  design,  and  beautifully 
engraved.  It  was  made  from  a  cow's  horn,  but 
scraped  to  transparency,  and  polished  to  the  high 
est  degree.  Its  stopple  was  of  silver,  held  securely 
from  loss  by  a  delicate  yet  strong  gold  chain.  On 
the  centre  of  the  horn,  where  the  bend  was  the 
fullest,  a  beautiful  landscape  was  engraved,  repre 
senting  pastoral  life.  The  base  of  the  horn  was  of 
silver,  having  in  relief  figures  of  yellow  gold  and 
Etruscan  bronze.  These  figures  represented  an 
Indian  riding  his  pony  in  pursuit  of  a  buffalo,  and 
showed  him  just  in  the  act  of  striking  with  his 
spear.  The  bronze  had  been  so  delicately  shaded 
into  a  copper  color  that  the  Indian's  limbs  and 
shoulders  seemed  most  lifelike. 

Wellington's  eyes  sparkled  with  enthusiasm  as 
he  looked  at  the  trophy,  and  said, — 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  125 

"  Perfectly  beautiful,  Manulito.  How  I  hope  that 
you  or  I  may  win  it !" 

The  Indian  gazed  at  it  rapturously,  handling  it 
with  affectionate  interest,  and  said, — 

"  It  shall  remain  at  this  village." 

At  this  moment  Thompson  spied  Kirtley,  and 
called  to  him,  saying, — 

"What's  this  I  hear  about  your  having  a  new 
horse  ?" 

"  Oh,"  responded  the  old  man,  "I  allus  hev  a 
hoss  ter  enter  in  a  race.  Would  be  better  off  ef  I 
didn't." 

"JSTo,  I  don't  agree  to  that,"  said  Thompson, 
"  for  you  have  a  good  farm,  are  a  good  judge  of 
horse-flesh,  and  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  have 
fast  horses.  But  they  tell  me  that  you  and  I  have 
scared  the  balance  out.  They  have  withdrawn  and 
left  us  with  our  horses  as  the  only  entries.  There 
is  but  one  prize,  the  citizens'  purse  of  fifty  dollars, 
so  I  guess  we  are  in  for  it." 

"  Wall,"  replied  Kirtley,  "  I've  entered  my  hoss, 
an'  I  ain't  a-goin'  ter  back  out.  My  hoss  sh'll  run." 

"That's  the  stuff!  That's  the  way  to  talk  it! 
Good  for  you,  old  man !"  were  the  outcries  from 
those  present.  Kirtley  was  considered  a  resident 
of  the  village,  and  they  took  local  pride  in  him, 
and  while  they  thought  it  impossible  that  his  horse 
could  win,  still  they  devoutly  hoped  he  might. 

"  Wonder  if  we  hadn't  better  sell  some  pools  on 
the  horses  ?"  said  Thompson. 
11* 


126  MANULITO. 

No  one  responded,  and  he  mounted  a  chair  and 
undertook  to  sell  pools,  but  all  were  afraid.  At 
last  he  appeared  disgusted,  and  said, — 

"  I'll  bet  a  hundred  dollars  that  Imp  o'  Darkness 
wins  the  race." 

Then,  after  waiting  for  a  reply  and  receiving 
none,  continued, — 

"  A  hundred  to  ninety  on  the  black  horse."  Still 
no  reply.  "  A  hundred  to  eighty,"  directing  his  at 
tention  to  Kirtley,  and  saying,  in  a  sneering  tone, — 

"  It's  very  funny,  gentlemen,  how  a  man  will  enter 
a  horse  in  a  race,  and  then  won't  bet ;  afraid  to  back 
his  judgment." 

"  Oh,"  responded  Kirtley,  "  yer  drivin'  at  me, 
air  ye?  Beg  pardon,  I  was  talkin'  ter  Mr.  Wel- 
lin'ton,  an'  didn't  hear  ye;  but  I'll  jes'  take  thet 
last  bet." 

At  this  the  followers  of  the  gambler  held  bank- 
bills  aloft  between  their  fingers,  and  cried  to  Kirt- 

ley,— 

"  A  hundred  to  eighty  on  the  black  horse !" 

"  I'll  take  that,— an'  that,— an'  that,— an'  that !" 
called  out  Kirtley,  as  they  crowded  around  him. 

Wellington  thought  the  old  man  was  wild,  and 
tried  to  get  him  away.  But  he  pulled  back  and 
said, — 

"  Let  me  go,  Bill ;  these  fellers  can't  bluff  me." 
And,  pulling  coin  from  his  pockets,  covered  all  the 
bets  offered  him. 

Wellington  was  made  stake-holder,  and  by  mu- 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  127 

tual  consent  was  selected  judge.  He  then  an 
nounced  that  it  was  nearly  two  o'clock,  the  time 
appointed  for  the  rifle-match,  and  requested  them 
all  to  repair  to  the  shooting-grounds,  which  the 
majority  did.  As  they  passed  out  the  door,  Thomp 
son  winked  at  one  of  his  confederates,  who  whis 
pered, — 

"  Just  like  finding  it  in  the  road." 

The  shooting-grounds  were  pleasantly  situated, 
facing  the  northeast.  Plenty  of  turkeys  were  on 
hand,  and  a  Mr.  Brown,  an  adept  himself  in  shoot 
ing  matters,  was  selected  as  referee.  He  announced, 
as  he  stepped  forward,  that  the  first  match  would 
be  at  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  range,  the  shooter 
to  take  any  position  he  might  select,  and  body  shots 
to  count.  In  fact,  if  blood  was  drawn  as  the  result 
of  a  shot,  it  should  be  scored  a  hit,  the  prize  to  be 
the  turkey  hit. 

As  the  shooters  stepped  forward  from  the  crowd, 
there  were  ten  of  them.  As  the  firing  continued, 
it  was  evident  that  out  of  the  ten  there  were  but 
five  that  stood  on  an  equality.  These  were  Wel 
lington,  Manulito,  a  young  hunter  from  the  Wapsie 
by  the  name  of  Johnson,  and  two  tall,  raw-boned 
hunters,  brothers,  by  the  name  of  Smith,  or,  as 
they  were  known  for  a  great  distance;  "  the  two 
Smiths,  the  Virginians."  They  brought  with  them 
rifles  with  extremely  long  barrels,  and  of  forty-five 
calibre.  These  two  brothers,  shooting  as  a  team, 


128  MANULITO. 

had  never  been  defeated,  and  a  turkey's  body  at 
one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  was  no  test  of  their 
skill.  After  a  few  rounds  were  fired,  the  distance 
was  shortened  to  seventy-five  yards,  the  shooters  to 
hit  the  turkey's  head  or  neck.  In  doing  this  the 
turkeys  were  placed  in  a  box,  body  concealed,  with 
head  and  neck  exposed  to  view.  Three  shots  each 
were  allowed.  Johnson  missed  the  first  and  scored 
the  other  two,  while  the  two  Smiths,  Wellington, 
and  Manulito  made  a  clean  score.  As  there  were 
four  ties  for  this  prize, — ten  dollars  in  gold, — it  was 
agreed  that  the  winner  in  the  next  match  should 
take  the  money  in  this.  As  they  prepared  for  the 
final  test,  the  conditions  of  which  they  had  not 
learned,  the  referee  called  them  forward  and  said, — 
"  Gentlemen,  your  skilful  shooting  has  pleased 
every  one  present,  but  it  still  remains  undecided 
who  is  the  best  shot,  and  we  are  going  to  put  you 
to  the  test.  The  winner  of  this  beautiful  prize, 
which  I  hold  in  my  hand,  may  indeed  cherish  it, 
for  the  ownership  implies  a  cool  head,  a  clear  eye, 
and  a  nerve  of  iron.  I  will  place  this  card  which 
you  see,  two  inches  in  diameter,  at  fifty  yards. 
With  the  edge  of  my  knife  I  have  marked  both 
horizontally  and  perpendicularly  a  line  almost  in 
distinct;  these  lines  cross  in  the  exact  centre  of  the 
target.  You  will  be  allowed  three  shots  each,  and 
the  measurements  are  to  be  string  measure  from 
the  point  where  the  lines  cross  to  the  edge  of  the 
bullet-mark  nearest  the  centre." 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  129 

Johnson  spoke,  and  said, — 

"  Mr.  Referee,  I  object  to  the  Smiths  shooting, 
because  of  the  way  their  sights  are  fixed." 

The  referee  examined  the  rifles,  and  found  they 
had  been  arranged  to  improve  the  sight  by  oval 
pieces  of  tin  blackened  and  soldered  over  the  front 
and  rear  sights  for  perhaps  six  inches.  This  made 
a  telescope  which  unquestionably  aided  one's  sight 
on  a  still,  bright  day  like  this  was.  But  the  referee 
decided  the  match  was  open  to  all  rifles,  and  ordered 
them  to  proceed  with  the  shooting. 

By  mutual  consent  a  black  spot,  one-half  inch  in 
diameter,  was  pasted  just  above  the  crossed  lines. 
This  enabled  the  marksmen  to  note  where  the 
exact  centre  lines  were. 

Johnson  was  the  first  to  shoot.  As  he  stood 
ready  to  fire,  his  feet  close  together,  his  left  elbow 
resting  on  his  hip,  while  the  fore-end  of  his  rifle- 
barrel  lay  on  the  tips  of  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand, 
he  took  deliberate  aim,  and,  as  the  smoke  rolled 
away,  the  marker  announced,  "  Centre  !"  There 
was  loud  applause  at  the  result. 

Wellington  was  the  next.  His  position  was  easy 
and  graceful,  the  left  foot  slightly  advanced,  the  left 
hand  extended  far  along  the  barrel.  His  aim  was 
quick,  and  at  the  report  of  the  gun  he  turned  and 
smiled,  knowing,  as  if  by  intuition,  where  the  bullet 
had  gone,  a  feeling  which  a  successful  hunter  often 
has,  almost  imagining  he  sees  the  bullet  in  its  flight. 
He  was  right,  for  the  marker  called  out,  "  Centre !" 
i 


130  AIANULITO. 

As  the  elder  Smith  went  to  the  score,  his  posi 
tion  was  a  peculiar  one.  He  lay  flat  on  the  ground, 
and  rested  his  rifle  on  a  standard  about  twelve 
inches  high  and  very  solid.  His  aim  was  long  and 
careful ;  his  rifle  was  held  as  in  a  vise,  and,  as  it 
belched  forth,  the  marker  ran  forward  and  turned, 
calling,  "  Centre !" 

The  younger  Smith  was  next.  He  took  the 
same  position,  the  same  deliberate  aim,  with  the 
same  result.  At  this  there  was  loud  cheering,  for 
the  Smiths  had  many  friends  present. 

Next,  and  last,  came  Manulito.  As  he  stepped 
forward  to  shoot,  he  was  greeted  with  loud  cheers. 

The  Indian  looked  straight  ahead,  as  cool  and 
calm  as  if  he  were  going  to  fire  at  random.  His 
long  piece  rested  in  the  crotch  of  his  left  arm ;  he 
shot  with  both  eyes  open  j  his  rifle  settled  on  his 
elbow  as  he  glanced  along  the  barrel,  apparently 
not  taking  aim.  ISTot  so,  however,  for  the  marker 
threw  up  his  hat  and  yelled,  "  Centre  !" 

Now  the  crowd  could  scarcely  contain  themselves. 
They  slapped  one  another  on  the  back,  and  ex 
claimed, — 

"  Hoop  la  !  Jes'  think  ov  it !  Every  one  a  clean 
score.  Thet's  wot  I  call  shootin' !" 

On  the  second  round  Johnson  was  a  shade  to  the 
right.  The  marker  produced  his  rule  and  an 
nounced,  "  Three-eighths  !" 

"  Oh,  that's  too  bad !"  exclaimed  a  voice. 

As  Wellington  fired,  he  again  secured  a  centre. 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  131 

The  elder  Smith  did  the  same ;  but  the  younger 
Smith  overheld  a  trifle,  and  the  marker  announced, 
"  One-quarter  over !"  The  Indian  drove  a  centre 
again,  in  his  quick,  decisive  manner. 

The  percentage  was  now  in  favor  of  the  local 
shooters,  hut  the  match  was  unfinished,  and  the 
result  could  not  be  safely  predicted.  Johnson,  at 
tempting  to  benefit  by  his  former  miss,  held  too 
much  to  the  left.  As  the  marker  cried,  "  One-half 
to  the  left !"  Wellington  stepped  firmly  forward  and 
fired  with  perfect  coolness.  As  he  did,  the  marker 
hesitated  for  a  second, — the  crowd  seemed  breath 
less, — then,  "  A  plumb  centre !"  rang  out,  and  the 
crowd  were  wild  with  delight,  for  none  could  beat 
his  score.  The  best  they  could  do  was  to  tie 
him. 

The  elder  Smith  seemed  more  deliberate  than 
ever,  but  as  he  heard  the  result  of  his  shot  his 
heart  was  in  his  mouth,  for  the  marker  cried, 
"  Three-sixteenths  under  on  centre  line !"  The 
crowd  were  now  more  demonstrative  than  ever,  for 
no  one  could  tie  Wellington  except  the  Indian,  and 
they  did  not  especially  care  which  one  of  them  re 
ceived  the  prize.  In  either  case  it  would  remain 
in  the  village.  But  they  crowded  forward,  inter 
fering  with  the  shooters,  and  it  was  some  time 
before  order  could  be  restored. 

The  younger  Smith  smiled  and  said, — 

"  No  use  shooting.  I've  missed  the  centre  once. 
That  lets  me  out." 


132  MANUL1TO. 

But  they  cried,  "  Go  on  and  shoot !  Go  on  and 
shoot !"  He  did  so,  and  made  a  centre. 

As  Manulito  stepped  forward  for  his  last  shot, 
Wellington  said  to  him, — 

"I  want  you  to  shoot  as  if  I  had  not 
shot." 

The  Indian  laid  his  hand  on  Wellington's  arm, 
looked  tenderly  into  his  eyes,  and  walked  to  the 
score.  He  shot  with  the  same  celerity  as  before. 
The  crowd  were  silent  as  death.  His  rifle  cracked, 
and  the  target  fluttered  to  the  ground.  As  it  did, 
the  elder  Smith  said, — 

"A  perfect  shot,  and  a  generous  act!"  for  his 
experienced  eye  told  him  that  the  Indian  had  not 
tried  to  hit  the  centre,  but  instead  had  driven  the 
nail  into  the  tree  and  released  the  target. 

As  Wellington  saw  this,  his  eyes  grew  moist. 
He  seized  the  Indian's  hand  and  said, — 

"  Oh,  Manulito,  that's  not  fair !  You  simply 
gave  this  beautiful  trophy  to  me." 

To  which  the  Indian  replied, — 

"  If  the  eye  of  Manulito  has  done  it  for  you,  it 
was  only  what  his  heart  hoped  he  might  be  able  to 
do.  When  the  Gray  Eagle  looked  so  fondly  at  this 
horn,  at  the  tavern,  Manulito  secretly  asked  the 
Manitou  that  his  wish  would  be  gratified.  And 
the  beautiful  gift  cannot  make  my  brother  any 
happier  than  is  the  heart  of  Manulito  this  day." 

At  this  Kirtley  cried  out, — 

"  Look,  Bill !     Look  over  yer  head." 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  133 

As  Wellington  looked,  he  saw,  almost  directly 
over  the  crowd,  a  flock  of  Canada  geese,  in  slow 
flight.  Wellington  raised  his  rifle  and  fired  at  the 
leader,  fully  two  hundred  yards  above  him.  As 
he  raised  the  piece,  Manulito  said, — 

"  Draw  in  ahead  of  him." 

The  rifle  spoke  out  in  its  sharp  tone,  apparently 
without  effect ;  the  gander  set  its  wings,  sailed  per 
haps  fifty  yards,  then  tumbled  to  the  earth,  shot 
through  the  heart. 

Those  in  attendance  were  in  a  jolly  mood,  and 
they  prevailed  on  the  Indian  to  give  an  exhibition 
of  fancy  shooting. 

A  card,  the  ace  of  hearts,  was  placed  at  fifty 
yards.  Each  time  a  shot  was  fired  a  new  board 
was  put  behind  it,  showing  three  distinct  centres 
were  made,  while  the  hole  in  the  card  looked  as  if 
but  one  shot  had  been  fired. 

A  wooden  ball  was  rolled  on  the  ground.  This 
ball  was  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter,  and  was 
about  one  hundred  feet  from  the  shooters.  Wel 
lington  fired  just  under  it.  At  the  report  of  his 
rifle  the  ball  bounded  from  the  ground,  and  while 
it  was  in  the  air  the  Indian  fired,  completely  shat 
tering  it.  Silver-pieces  were  thrown  up  and  inva 
riably  hit.  Wellington  stood  thirty  yards  away, 
and  threw  towards  the  Indian  an  ounce  bottle, 
which  was  smashed  into  thousands  of  pieces. 
Manulito  then  mounted  his  pony,  and,  while  at 
full  speed,  broke  small  bottles  thrown  into  the  air. 

12 


134  MANUL1TO. 

As  he  finished  his  exhibition  he  was  loudly  cheered, 
and  then  the  crowd  started  for  the  races. 

The  track,  while  decidedly  primitive,  was  yet  in 
perfect  condition  for  speed.  In  early  days  a  coun 
try  town  prided  itself  on  its  horses  and  its  place  for 
racing,  and  there  was  a  smooth  road  near  this  town, 
which  was  straight  and  level  for  a  mile,  according  to 
accurate  measurements.  The  people — men,  women, 
and  children — were  beginning  to  arrive,  and  gave 
a  gala-day  appearance  to  the  scene. 

The  horses  wrere  on  the  grounds,  heavily  swathed 
in  blankets  and  hoods,  and  were  walked  rapidly 
up  and  down  to  keep  up  their  circulation.  Imp  o' 
Darkness  was  led  by  a  stable-boy,  while  Sweet 
Marjoram  was  attended  by  Uncle  Rastus  and 
Eph. 

As  the  time  advanced,  the  horses  were  called  up, 
and  the  owners  instructed  to  get  them  ready  for 
the  race.  So  the  riders  mounted  and  gave  them  a 
preliminary  canter.  Both  Kirtley  and  Thompson 
elected  to  remain  at  the  starting-point,  believing 
that  a  good  start  was  a  race  half  won.  Many  stayed 
at  the  score,  while  by  far  the  majority  went  to  the 
wire  where  the  race  was  to  end. 

Kirtley  was  still  confident  that  his  horse  would 
win,  and  large  sums  were  wagered  between  him 
and  Thompson  and  the  latter's  companions. 

A  flag  was  waved  by  Wellington,  signifying  that 
they  were  ready  when  the  starters  were.  Time 
keepers  were  with  Wellington,  while  Manulito  was 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  135 

to  act  as  starter,  dropping  a  flag  when  the  horses 
were  off.  Thompson  wanted  a  running  start,  to 
which  Kirtley  made  no  objection. 

The  horses  were  now  stripped  for  the  race  in 
magnificent  condition.  Their  hair  was  as  glossy  as 
silk,  while  their  ribs  wavered  through  their  satin 
coats.  As  the  jockey's  saddle  was  being  girded 
on  the  sorrel  horse,  he  was  as  docile  as  if  he  did 
not  understand  what  was  to  happen,  and  only  occa 
sionally  laid  back  his  delicate  ears  when  an  extra 
pull  was  made  on  the  girth. 

But  the  black  horse  was  exceedingly  restive,  and 
was  properly  named,  for  it  seemed  as  if  he  were 
possessed  of  the  Evil  One.  In  appearance  he  was 
a  perfect  beauty,  black  as  jet,  without  a  single 
white  hair  ;  his  eyes  had  a  wicked  snap,  while  fre 
quent  racing  and  consequent  rubbings  had  made 
him  vicious  to  such  an  extent  that  he  wore  a 
muzzle  to  keep  him  from  biting. 

His  rider  was  a  man  of  uncertain  age,  smooth 
faced,  with  a  determined  mouth  and  chin,  and 
weighing  less  than  one  hundred  pounds.  Thomp 
son  removed  the  muzzle  from  his  horse  and  seized 
the  rings  of  the  bit.  The  horse  knew  what  was 
up,  and  reared  and  plunged,  trying  to  get  free  in 
his  anxiety  to  start,  and  at  times  fairly  lifting 
Thompson  off  his  feet. 

Kirtley  went  to  take  his  horse,  but  the  boy  said 
to  him, — 

"  Nebber  min',  Brer  Kirtley.     Ah  don'  need  yo5 


136  MANULITO. 

'sistance.  Ah'll  staht  de  hoss,  an'  get  none  de 
wuss  ob  it." 

"All  right,  Eph,"  replied  Kirtley;  "yer  win  this 
race  and  I'll  give  yer  ther  best  colt  I've  got  on  the 
farm." 

The  young  lad  held  back  from  the  black  horse, 
and  as  they  wheeled  and  bounded  over  the  score, 
the  sorrel  was  slightly  in  the  lead. 

"  Come  back !    Come  back !"  the  starter  shouted. 

But  the  horses  were  on  their  mettle,  and  ran  an 
eighth  of  a  mile  before  they  could  be  stopped.  As 
they  trotted  back,  Thompson  cried  out  to  Kirtley, — 

"  One  hundred  or  two  hundred  dollars  that  the 
black  horse  wins !" 

"  Give  me  odds  an'  I'll  take  yer,"  said  Kirtley. 

"  ]STo,  I'm  clone  giving  you  odds.     I  won't  do  it." 

"  Won't  yer  ?"  said  the  old  man,  in  sneering 
tones.  "  Then  I'll  bet  yer  five  hundred  dollars  even 
thet  my  hoss  wins  !" 

"  "What !"  yelled  Thompson. 

"  Thet's  wot  I  said,  an'  here's  the  money." 

As  he  produced  it  Thompson  was  temporarily 
taken  aback,  but  recovered  himself  and  said,  with 
his  serenest  smile, — 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  possessed  of  so  much  sand, 
Mr.  Kirtley,  and  we'll  just  accommodate  you." 
And  he  and  his  companions  put  the  money  up  in 
Mr.  Brown's  hands. 

As  the  horses  dashed  forward  the  second  time, 
the  black  had  the  lead ;  so  much  so  that  Thompson 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  137 

hung  on  the  bit  and  did  not  release  him.  The 
horse  was  bound  to  go,  and  although  Thompson 
must  have  weighed  two  hundred  pounds,  the  horse 
dragged  him  along  as  he  would  a  child. 

On  the  third  attempt  the  boy  intended  there 
should  be  a  start,  and  as  the  horses  swung  around, 
they  bounded  forward  with  magnificent  strides, 
neck  and  neck.  The  crowd  saw  it  would  be  a 
start,  and  as  they  went  over  the  line  the  flag 
dropped.  The  crowd  cheered  with  delight,  and  the 
horses  were  off. 

For  the  first  quarter  they  ran  like  the  wind,  the 
black  horse  cutting  out  the  pace,  and  his  rider 
evidently  trying  to  feel  the  speed  of  his  antagonist, 
but  the  sorrel  horse  remained  head  and  head  with 
him.  At  the  half  the  black  horse  gained  a  trifle, 
and  its  head  showed  just  in  front  of  the  sorrel. 
When  the  flag  dropped  as  they  passed  the  half- 
mile  post,  the  timer  ejaculated  in  surprise, — 

"  Gracious !  the  fastest  half  ever  run  on  this 
track !  Look  at  'em  come !" 

Down  they  came  towards  the  three-quarters  pole, 
their  hoofs  thundering  their  approach.  The  black 
horse  was  still  in  the  lead  and  running  like  the 
wind,  but  seemingly  unable  to  shake  off  his  rival, 
who  hung  grimly  a  nose  behind.  The  crowd  was 
silent  as  death,  too  surprised  and  excited  to  shout, 
for  they  had  never  seen  such  running. 

As  the  horses  dashed  into  the  home-stretch  they 
seemed  to  realize  it.  The  rider  of  Imp  o'  Darkness 

12* 


138  MANULITO. 

now  exerted  every  effort  to  rush  him  forward.  He 
dug  his  spurs  into  the  horse,  hut  he  could  not  free 
him  from  the  clinging  sorrel.  However,  the  wire 
was  near,  and,  while  the  sorrel  did  not  lose,  neither 
did  he  gain.  So  perfect  their  stride  that  many 
said,  mentally,  "  A  dead  heat !"  But  within  twenty 
feet  of  the  wire,  the  black  horse,  ever  vicious,  and 
distressed  with  his  punishment,  infuriated  at  his 
antagonist,  quickly  turned  and  bit  at  the  neck  of 
his  opponent.  Alas !  a  fatal  move !  For  young 
Eph  saw  his  opportunity ;  he  lifted  the  head  of  the 
sorrel  horse,  and  before  the  rider  of  the  black  could 
straighten  its  head  the  nose  of  Sweet  Marjorum 
shot  first  over  the  wire  and  won  the  heat. 

There  was  never  a  more  demonstrative  gather 
ing.  The  time  was  not  yet  announced,  but  the 
crowd  knew  it  was  better  than  they  had  ever  seen 
made,  and  they  danced  and  whooped  as  only  at 
tendants  at  races  can.  Many  who  could  not  see  the 
outcome  declared  it  a  dead  heat;  others  averred 
that  the  black  horse  had  won.  But  as  Wellington 
stood  on  a  platform  and  asked  their  attention,  there 
was  a  perfect  silence  as  he  announced  in  a  loud, 
clear  voice, — 

"  Sweet  Marjorum  wins  the  heat.  Time  1.52." 
At  this  the  crowd  yelled  louder  than  ever,  their 
continuous  cheering  announcing  to  those  at  the 
starting-point  the  result  of  the  heat.  To  corrob 
orate  this,  a  yellow  flag  was  held  aloft,  denoting  that 
the  sorrel  horse  won. 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  139 

As  they  saw  this,  Thompson  smiled  and  said, — 

"  A  horse-race  is  never  won  until  the  last  heat  is 
run." 

Kirtley  at  first  stood  dazed ;  then,  realizing  what 
had  happened,  threw  his  hat  on  the  ground,  and 
executed  a  hornpipe  in  the  most  approved  style, 
humming  his  own  accompaniment. 

When  it  was  ascertained  that  the  heat  was  lost 
by  reason  of  the  black  horse  attempting  to  bite  the 
sorrel,  Thompson  called  his  rider  to  him  and  asked 
him  how  the  heat  was  lost.  The  rider  attributed 
the  blame  to  the  ugly  disposition  of  the  animal,  and 
said, — 

"I  kin  beat  thet  sorrel  hoss  every  day  in  de 
week !  I  played  wid  him  most  ov  the  time  ;  jes' 
feelin'  ov  him.  He's  a  good  hoss,  but  can't  stay 
wid  de  Imp!" 

"  Stay  ?"  responded  Thompson.  "  I  should  say 
not !  Now,  Jimmie,  next  heat  cut  out  the  pace, 
and  run  away  from  him  until  you  get  a  lead  so 
you  know  you  have  him  dead  to  rights,  for  the 
Imp  is  lightning,  double  distilled,  and  nothing  can 
beat  him." 

Then,  with  some  parting  instructions,  given  in 
cautious  whispered  tones,  Thompson  joined  the 
crowd. 

The  village  residents  were  elated  over  the  result 
of  the  first  heat.  They  were  full  of  enthusiasm, 
and  any  number  of  small  bets  were  made  between 
them,  mostly  for  new  hats.  Whenever  their  ardor 


140  MANUL1TO. 

led  them  to  a  monetary  consideration,  Thompson 
or  his  adherents  stood  ready  and  accommodated 
them,  for  they  considered  the  result  of  the  first 
heat  an  accident  which  could  not  occur  the  second 
time. 

Thompson  felt  supreme  confidence  in  his  horse's 
ability  to  win  notwithstanding  he  had  lost  the  first 
heat,  and,  approaching  Kirtley,  suggested  that  they 
increase  their  wagers.  Kirtley  had  bet  all  the 
money  he  had,  and  told  Thompson  so;  but  that 
worthy  guyed  him,  and  said, — 

"  Mr.  Kirtley,  when  a  man  is  willing  to  back  his 
horse  he  never  can  have  too  much  money.  If  you 
haven't  the  lucre  yourself,  circulate  around  among 
your  friends  and  let  them  make  up  a  pool ;  surely 
their  local  pride  ought  to  induce  them  to  come  in. 
Nothing  ventured  nothing  gained,  you  know." 

The  old  man  looked  fixedly  at  the  ground  for  an 
instant,  closed  his  lips  determinedly,  and  replied, — 

"  Ed,  yer  seed  my  team  ov  oxen  this  mornin', 
didn't  yer?" 

Thompson  nodded  assent,  and  Kirtley  con 
tinued, — 

"  Wall,  they  is  wuth  over  a  hundred  dollars. 
I'll  jes'  bet  them  oxen  an'  the  wagon  ag'in'  a  hun 
dred  dollars  thet  the  sorrel  wins." 

Thompson  put  up  the  money  in  Mr.  Brown's 
hands,  and  that  gentleman  witnessed  the  bet. 

Kirtley  squeezed  through  the  crowd,  and  found 
Uncle  Rastus  exercising  the  horse,  while  Eph  and 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  141 

Manulito  were  quietly  discussing  the  race.  Kirtley 
seized  the  boy's  hand,  nearly  crushing  it,  and  said, — 

"  Good  boy,  Eph  !  Good  boy !  Jes'  keep  it  up 
an'  the  colt  is  yourn," 

The  boy  smiled  in  confidence,  and  said, — 

"  Brer  Kirtley,  de  race  am  half  won.  Dat  black 
hoss  am  a  runner,  sho'  'miff!  But  afo'  'e  git  troo 
dis  race  him  will  hab  ter  show  hit."  And  he 
grinned,  showing  a  set  of  teeth  of  ivory  white 
ness. 

The  bell  now  rang  for  the  second  heat.  The 
horses  were  divested  of  blankets,  sponged,  and 
brought  to  the  starting-place.  It  was  noticed  that 
Thompson  was  over-cautious  in  this  heat.  No 
wonder;  for,  if  he  lost,  he  lost  not  only  the  race 
but  thousands  of  dollars. 

The  colored  lad  watched  every  movement; 
nothing  escaped  him,  and,  not  intending  that  there 
should  be  a  false  start,  he  urged  his  horse,  and  they 
bounded  over  the  score  together  at  the  first  attempt. 
The  rider  of  the  black  horse  rode  him  for  all  he 
was  worth,  and  the  speedy  animal  drew  slowly 
away  from  the  sorrel.  As  they  reached  the  half, 
it  was  seen  that  they  were  going  at  a  1.48  pace. 
Never  was  such  running  seen  in  this  section.  The 
black  horse  was  a  full  length  in  the  lead,  running 
like  a  scared  deer,  but  the  young  darky  sat  his 
horse  in  easy  confidence.  At  the  three-quarters 
they  were  even  again;  but  at  the  home-stretch 
with  spurs  and  whip  the  black  was  plied,  and, 


142  MANUL1TO. 

springing  forward,  he  drew  gradually  away  from 
Ms  rival.  Young  Eph  sat  immovable  upon  his 
horse,  but  he  seemed  doomed  to  defeat,  for  Imp  o' 
Darkness  galloped  in,  a  winner  by  three  lengths. 

As  the  black  flag  was  held  aloft  there  was  but 
slight  cheering,  for  the  majority  hoped  that  Kirt- 
ley's  horse  would  win  the  heat,  and  consequently 
the  race. 

Thompson  and  his  companions  were  supremely 
happy,  yet  quiet  in  showing  it,  as  one  of  them 
remarked, — 

"  A  mere  scratch  that  the  sorrel  won  the  first 
heat.  He  will  be  distanced  the  next." 

The  crowd  clamored  for  a  change  of  riders  for 
the  sorrel,  claiming  he  was  not  half  ridden,  and 
that  the  boy  was  bought  up  and  did  not  try  to  win. 
Kirtley  was  distrustful,  and  looked  for  another 
rider.  But  the  Indian  had  assumed  charge  of  the 
horse,  and  said, — 

"  No  !     The  negro  boy  shall  ride  !" 

Kirtley  sputtered  around,  and  muttered, — 

"  Fool  promise  I  made,  an'  now  I'll  have  ter  pay 
fur  it!" 

The  colored  lad  stood  silent,  when  Kirtley  said 
to  him, — 

"  Why  in  thunder  don't  yer  say  suthin'  ?  Speak  ! 
Swear !  Anything  but  standin'  lookin'  like  an 
idgit!" 

The  boy  looked  calmly  at  him,  dropped  his 
glance,  and  said,— 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  143 

"Dere's  'nudder  heat  ter  run.  Ah  habn't  tole 
yo'  ter  quit  bettin'." 

Kirtley  drew  back  as  if  to  hit  the  boy.  Manu- 
lito,  interpreting  his  thoughts,  stepped  between 
them,  and  said, — 

"Manulito  would  as  soon  strike  a  woman,  as 
soon  a  child,  as  an  old  man  with  gray  hairs.  But 
if  the  Gray  Beard  touches  this  boy,  Manulito  will 
strike  him  to  the  earth  as  if  he  were  a  dog." 

"  Very  well,"  responded  Kirtley.  "  I'm  in  fur 
it,  an'  if  I'm  beat  I'll  get  even  with  yer  two." 

To  which  the  Indian  replied,  "In  every  horse 
race  some  one  must  lose." 

Suddenly  Eph  darted  towards  his  horse  and  led 
him  from  the  crowd. 

In  the  mean  time,  Thompson  was  looking  for 
Kirtley,  and  accosting  him,  said, — 

"  Your  horse  has  won  one  heat,  mine  the  other. 
I  should  like  to  own  your  horse  if  he  can  beat 
mine,  and  if  mine  can't  beat  yours,  I  don't  care  to 
own  him.  You  say  you  haven't  any  more  money. 
I'll  make  you  this  proposition :  I'll  bet  my  horse 
against  yours.  If  yours  wins,  you  take  both ;  if 
mine  wins,  I  do  the  same.  My  horse  cost  me  a 
heap  of  money,  and  I  am  giving  you  the  best  of 
the  bargain." 

The  old  man  stood  contemplatively,  and  mut 
tered  to  himself, — 

"  He  don't  know  wot  I  paid  fur  thet  sorrel,  or 
the  expense  ov  the  trip  to  Lexington." 


144  MANUL1TO. 

Kirtley's  friends  told  him  he  had  bet  enough, 
that  he  could  not  afford  to  take  the  chances,  and 
insisted  that  he  should  not  make  this  bet.  But  the 
old  man  was  obstinate.  The  more  they  argued 
with  him  the  more  determined  he  seemed  to  have 
Ms  own  way,  and,  shaking  them  from  him,  said, — 

"  I'll  do  it !     Hoss  ag'in'  hoss !" 

He  had  no  sooner  made  the  agreement  than  a 
man  rushed  up  to  Thompson  and  whispered  some 
thing  to  him  which  made  him  start  and  say, — 

"  Are  you  sure  of  it  ?" 

To  which  the  messenger  replied,  "  Sure  ?  Of 
course  I  am  !  I  just  left  him." 

At  this  Thompson  smiled,  took  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
and  remarked  to  himself, — 

"  Well,  the  Lord  does  at  times  help  a  sinner." 

The  messenger's  errand  was  soon  known,  for  the 
word  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth, — 

"  The  sorrel  horse  has  gone  lame !  The  sorrel 
horse  has  gone  lame  !" 

At  this  announcement  a  groan  of  lamentation 
issued  from  those  present,  for  not  only  was  the  race 
settled,  but  Kirtley  and  many  of  them  were  going 
to  be  losers. 

The  crowd  surged  around  the  horse,  trying  to 
get  near  him,  but  were  kept  back  by  Uncle  Rastus 
and  Manulito.  Eph  had  his  lingers  in  the  bridle- 
ring,  and  would  allow  no  one  to  take  his  place. 

Now  it  was  clear  to  those  present  why  the  horse 
had  not  run  better  in  the  last  heat,  for  they  cried, — 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  145 

"  He  is  broken  down  !  Poor  fellow !  Will  never 
run  another  race  !"  And  innumerable  expressions 
of  sympathy  and  regret  were  heard  on  every  side. 

The  lameness  appeared  to  be  either  in  the  left 
fore-shoulder  or  left  leg,  it  being  impossible  to 
locate  it ;  but  the  poor  animal  limped,  and  seemed 
scarcely  able  to  put  his  foot  to  the  ground.  All 
kinds  of  remedies  were  suggested.  The  shoe  was 
examined,  taken  off,  refitted  and  put  on  again,  but 
all  to  no  purpose.  Uncle  Rastus  bound  the  leg 
firmly  with  a  flannel  bandage.  It  seemed  to  relieve 
the  pain,  but  the  relief  was  only  temporary,  and 
the  horse  limped  as  badly  as  before. 

Kirtley  was  nearly  wild,  and  was  bitter  in  his 
denunciations  of  his  evil  luck.  The  race  had  to  go 
on,  he  knew  that.  Two  heats  had  been  run,  one 
won  by  each,  and  the  third  must  be  run*  also.  If 
his  horse  could  not  race,  then  all  bets  must  follow 
the  winning  horse,  and  all  the  black  horse  had  to 
do  to  be  a  winner  was  to  walk  over  the  course.  He 
now  realized  the  enormity  of  his  betting,  for,  like 
many  others  who  could  ill  afford  it,  he  had  risked 
more  than  he  was  able  to  lose.  He  approached  the 
horse,  and  the  sympathetic  crowd  made  an  opening 
for  him  to  get  nearer,  where  he  stood  like  one  in 
a  dream,  not  hearing  the  pitying  remarks  of  his 
friends. 

Young  Eph  and  the  Indian  looked  quietly  deter 
mined.  ~No  one  could  read  the  pent-up  feelings  of 
the  boy,  while  the  Indian  was  a  Stoic,  and  did  not 
a  k  13 


146  MANULITO. 

show  his  thoughts  any  more  than  he  would  have 
done  were  he  made  of  marble. 

When  Kirtley  approached,  Uncle  Eastus  said  to 
him, — 

"  Char  up,  Brer  Kirtley !  Char  up !  We  will 
do  de  bes'  we  can  fo'  de  hoss." 

Kirtley  neared  them,  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice, 
just  so  the  trio  could  hear,  said, — 

"  I  hev  bet  thousands  ov  dollars  on  this  hoss  ! 
I've  bet  cattle,  an'  I've  bet  the  hoss  hisself " 

"  Wot's  dat  yo'  say,  Brer  Kirtley  ?"  said  Eph. 
"  Yo'  bet  dis  hoss  too?  An'  ef  I  loses  de  race 
mus'  dis  hoss,  mah  Sweet  Mahjorum,  go  'way  f 'um 
heah  ?" 

"  Yaas !     If  yer  lose  the  race  the  hoss  mus'  go  !" 

At  this  the  boy's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  he 
stroked  the  horse's  head. 

The  flag  now  waved  for  them  to  get  ready  for 
the  final  heat.  It  seemed  a  cruelty  to  force  this 
noble  animal  to  run  in  his  lame  condition,  and 
Kirtley  was  solicited  to  withdraw  him  and  forfeit 
the  race.  But  he  declined,  saying  that  Sweet  Mar- 
jorum  should  go  over  the  course  if  he  had  to  walk. 

As  the  horses  were  uncovered  and  brought  forth, 
the  disparity  in  their  appearance  was  so  great  that 
hundreds  of  sad  hearts  noted  it. 

The  young  darky  requested  that  he  might  take 
a  standing  start  at  the  score,  and  this  was  allowed. 
He  held  his  horse  sidewise  that  he  might  swing 
him  into  position.  As  the  black  horse  wheeled,  the 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  147 

young  lad  raised  his  hand,  signalling  he  was  not 
ready,  and  dismounted.  He  motioned  his  father 
and  the  Indian  away,  unwrapped  the  flannel  from 
the  horse's  leg,  and  stroked  his  face  affectionately, 
talking  to  him  in  low,  musical  tones,  his  words  not 
being  distinguishable.  The  horse  replied  with  a 
low  whinney,  and  pawed  the  air  with  his  lame  leg. 
The  black  horse  sprang  forward,  the  sorrel  reared 
and  wheeled,  the  flag  dropped. 

"  Now,  honey  !"  sharply  spoke  the  boy,  and  the 
horse  leaped  ahead, — a  perfect  start. 

"  Look  at  that  sorrel  run !"  the  crowd  cried. 
"  But  he  won't  last,  the  pace  is  too  hot  for  him.  His 
lame  leg  will  give  out  I" 

But  it  had  not  given  out  at  the  half,  for  the 
horses  were  side  and  side,  running  faster  than  ever. 
The  jockey  was  plying  rod  and  steel  to  Imp  o' 
Darkness,  but  the  sorrel  clung  to  him. 

At  the  three-quarters  pole  the  black  was  a  nose 
ahead,  but  as  they  entered  the  home-stretch,  young 
Eph  drew  a  shorter  rein,  leaned  over  the  sorrel's 
neck,  and  sharply  spoke, — 

"  Now,  honey,  now !  Sugah  in  de  mangah  waitin' 
fo'  yo' !  Kun  fo'  mah  sake  ?" 

A  tigress  never  sprang  quicker  to  the  protection 
of  her  young  than  did  the  sorrel  horse  at  this. 
He  did  not  seem  to  run.  His  feet  appeared  scarcely 
to  touch  the  ground,  as  with  tremendous  strides 
he  shot  forward.  The  jockey  on  Imp  o'  Darkness 
beat  and  spurred,  but  to  no  purpose,  for,  with  his 


148  MANULITO. 

great  eyes  bulging  from  his  head,  Sweet  Marjorum 
crossed  the  line  four  lengths  in  advance,  in  1.48, 
with  the  colored  lad  looking  over  his  shoulder, 
and  grinning  with  childish  joy  at  his  defeated 
rival. 

The  crowd  did  not  wait  for  the  announcement 
of  time,  but  rushed  in  on  the  track,  cheering, 
wildly  cheering,  the  result  of  the  race. 

The  yellow  flag  shot  up,  telling  them  at  the  start 
ing-point  the  result. 

As  the  horses  started,  Kirtley  stood  with  open 
mouth,  staring  at  the  spectacle  of  a  lame  horse 
running  with  such  speed ;  but  before  he  had  time 
to  collect  his  thoughts  the  race  was  run,  and  his 
horse  was  winner. 

Those  present  seized  the  colored  lad  and  bore 
him  on  their  shoulders,  cheering  again  and  again 
for  him  and  for  the  horse.  Kirtley  rushed  forward, 
and  seizing  the  young  rider  by  the  hand,  ex 
claimed, — 

"  You're  a  brick !  Cum  down  an'  take  yer  pick 
ov  ther  colts.  As  the  Gov'nor  ov  North  Car'lina 
said  to  the  Gov'nor  ov  South  Car'lina " 

"  No  you  don't !"  interrupted  Wellington.  "  Not 
to-day,  Kirtley.  I  know  it's  a  big  day  for  you,  but 
don't  drink  any  to-day,  for  my  sake,  if  not  your 
own." 

"  All  right,  Bill,  I  won't  fur  your  sake ;  but  ef  I 
was  a-goin'  ter  act  as  I  feel  like  doin',  I  surely 
would.'"' 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  149 

It  was  a  source  of  great  astonishment  to  all  that 
the  horse  so  speedily  recovered  from  his  lameness. 
But  the  boy  told  of  their  strong  attachment,  of 
how  he  had  taught  him  numerous  tricks, — this  one 
among  others, — and  that  Kirtley  had  trusted  him 
so  much  that  he  wanted  to  make  all  the  money  he 
could  for  him.  When  asked  if  he  had  not  feared 
losing  the  race,  he  said  he  never  did. 

The  first  heat  he  wanted  close,  and  during  the 
running  of  that  ascertained  the  speed  of  his  com 
petitor.  The  second  heat  he  intentionally  lost. 
Then  he  made  the  horse  walk  lame  as  a  surprise, 
no  one  but  Manulito  being  aware  of  what  he 
intended  doing. 

"  Ah  couldn't  'fo'd  ter  lose,"  he  continued, "  'caus' 
ef  Ah  did,  mah  pet  'd  be  taken  f 'um  me,  an',  gem- 
men,  Ah  t'inks  mo'  ob  dat  hoss  dan  any  one  in  dis 
wuld  'cept  mah  ole  daddy." 

As  the  boy  disclosed  these  things  he  was  cheered 
more  than  ever,  for  they  were  delighted  that  a  mere 
boy  should  circumvent  a  professional  gambler  and 
beat  him  at  his  own  game. 

Thompson  and  his  companions  felt  unusually  sore 
over  their  defeat  and  great  losses,  but  their  bohe- 
mian  life  had  taught  them  long  ago  to  accept  what 
ever  fortune  came  to  them.  They  had  risked  all 
their  money  and  lost,  and  Thompson  remarked, 
with  his  cynical  smile, — 

"  We  shall  have  to  depend  on  the  generosity  of 
the  good  citizens  of  this  village  to  lend  us  sufficient 

13* 


150  MANULITO. 

cash   to   enable   us   to   reach   the  borders  of  our 
peaceful  homes." 

Almost  any  man  would  have  been  discouraged 
and  disheartened  after  losing  as  much  money  as 
Thompson  had  on  his  race-horse.  Not  so  with 
him.  At  first  he  appeared  stunned  at  the  result, 
as  he  had  felt  that  he  was  betting  on  an  absolutely 
sure  thing,  and  the  disastrous  result  was  like  a 
stroke  of  lightning  from  a  clear  sky.  But  he  did 
not  spend  his  time  in  bemoaning  his  loss.  His 
money  had  come  easily,  and  it  passed  out  of  his 
possession  without  one  word  of  complaint  from 
him.  There  was  no  time  for  sorrow  or  regret. 
The  fates  had  been  averse  to  him.  The  race  was 
fair,  he  had  bet  and  lost,  and,  having  lost,  there 
was  no  recourse.  But  he  was  a  gambler,  and  life 
was  the  same  to  him  whether  he  won  or  lost.  His 
roving,  wandering  existence  had  converted  him  into 
a  decided  optimist,  for  he  believed  that  what  is  was 
to  be,  and  never  murmured  at  his  ill  luck.  He 
might  be  discouraged  for  the  moment,  perhaps,  but 
time  in  its  revolutions  would  make  all  things  right. 
He  had  met  with  financial  reverses  many  times 
before,  but  as  he  always  kept  in  reserve  either 
money,  collaterals,  or  land,  he  accepted  misfortune 
with  astonishing  resignation.  So  it  was  this  day. 
His  rapid  imagination  speedily  concocted  a  scheme 
to  win  back  much  of  the  money  he  had  lost.  In 
those  early  days,  as  now,  there  was  a  fascination 
about  a  game  of  cards  that  always  brought  many 


THE  HORSE-RACE.  151 

men,  both  young  and  old,  to  the  table.  Men  filled 
with  ardor  or  conceit,  oftentimes  both,  who  thought 
themselves  shrewd  enough  to  beat  a  gambler  at  his 
own  game.  In  this  village  were  to  be  found  plenty 
of  this  description,  only  too  willing  to  tempt  fortune 
at  the  card-table.  Thompson  knew  this,  and,  with 
his  adherents  working  with  him,  it  was  no  difficult 
matter  to  arrange  a  quiet  game  of  faro  for  the  even 
ing, — a  game  that  lasted  all  night,  and  which  re 
sulted  in  the  gamblers  winning  back  their  losses  to 
a  very  material  extent.  But  Kirtley  was  too  shrewd 
for  them,  and  could  not  be  induced  to  take  part  in 
the  game. 

The  revelries  of  the  day  were  prolonged  far  into 
morning  by  the  many  who  were  fond  of  dancing, 
when  chanticleer  announced  the  approach  of  dawn. 

The  musicians,  tired  and  sleepy,  between  dances, 
suddenly  jerked  themselves  together,  and  strove, 
with  vigorous  raspings,  to  produce  from  their  vio 
lins  music  sharp  and  inspiring,  while  the  tireless 
floor-manager  called  out,  in  loud  voice, — 

"  Git  yer  partners  fur  a  cotillion !"  or,  "  Now  you 
fellers  git  yer  gals  fur  Dan  Tucker !"  or,  when  the 
gentlemen  condescended  to  give  the  ladies  a  chance 
for  choice  of  partners,  he  would  call,  "Ladies' 
choice !  Come,  girls,  snatch  some  feller  an'  fill 
the  set !" 

The  dancing  was  not  according  to  modern  stand 
ards.  There  was  no  walking  through  a  set  with 
listless  indifference ;  no  faint  touching  of  the  tips 


152  MANULITO. 

of  the  dancers'  fingers;  no  minuets  with  their 
graceful  movements  ;  none  of  the  decollete  abandon 
of  the  modern  waltz.  But  the  smooth,  planed  pine 
floor  coaxed  many  a  nimble  foot  to  greater  activity, 
and  the  audience  was  pleased  to  such  an  extent  that 
any  extra  steps,  giving  variations  to  the  common 
ones,  were  always  vociferously  applauded. 

Finally,  the  last  dance  was  announced,  and  at  its 
completion  all  departed  for  their  homes.  Quiet 
crept  over  the  village,  and  nothing  was  heard 
except  the  barking  of  some  unsettled  house-dog. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE   DEPARTURE   OF   MANULITO. 

"  The  man  to  solitude  accustom 'd  long, 
Perceives  in  everything  that  lives  a  tongue ; 
Not  animals  alone,  but  shrubs  and  trees 
Have  speech  for  him,  and  understood  with  ease, 
After  long  drought,  when  rains  abundant  fall, 
He  hears  the  herbs  and  flowers  rejoicing  all." 

COWPER. 

THE  seasons  glided  quickly  by,  and  "Wellington 
and  his  red  friend  were  frequently  seen  together. 
A  hunt  intended  by  one  meant  that  it  would  be 
incomplete  without  the  other.  The  pressure  of 
business  restrained  Wellington  from  participating 


THE  DEPARTURE   OF  MANULITO.  153 

in  many  of  these  excursions,  but  it  only  intensified 
his  desire  to  go,  and  the  time  had  to  be  chosen 
when  these  hunts  would  not  interfere  with  his  legal 
duties. 

Manulito  was  now  an  honored  inmate  of  his 
household,  for  Wellington  had  told  his  wife  how 
his  life  had  been  saved,  and  painted  with  the  brush 
of  eloquence  the  part  Manulito  played  that  day  at 
the  river.  To  Wellington's  wife  Manulito  was  not 

O 

an  Indian,  but  was  the  one  who  had  rescued  her 
husband  from  death,  and  the  feminine  kindnesses 
she  knew  so  well  how  to  show  were  delicately 
thrust  on  the  Indian. 

Manulito  passed  all  his  time  at  the  home  of  his 
friend  or  in  the  woods,  occasionally  with  his  hound 
and  rifle  in  pursuit  of  deer.  But  oftener,  in  the 
summer-time,  he  was  a  willing  prisoner,  as  a  child 
ish  hand  grasped  his  and  tugged  hard  and  strong, 
beseeching  him  to  go  with  her  to  gather  the  pretty 
flowers  which  blossomed  so  thickly  in  the  meadow- 
land.  His  fierce  heart  was  tamed  to  meek  sub 
mission  by  the  winsome  maiden  of  four,  and  after 
they  had  gathered  great  bunches  of  pinks  and  In 
dian  reds,  and  the  golden  lady-slippers,  they  would 
seek  the  shade  of  some  large  tree,  and  the  proud, 
strong  man,  wrapped  in  his  blanket  of  fiery  red, 
his  childish  captor,  and  her  older  brother,  would 
sit  for  hours,  the  boy  listening  with  feverish  excite 
ment  to  the  Indian's  tales  of  his  life  in  the  woods, 
of  his  love  for  the  Gray  Eagle,  and  of  the  great 


154  MANULITO. 

chief  their  father  was  among  his  people.  The  hoy 
could  scarce  restrain  his  enthusiasm,  and  the  most 
exciting  events  of  the  stories  were  repeated  again 
and  again.  All  this  time  the  little  maid  seemed 
lost  to  her  surroundings,  and  while  her  brother 
was  being  wrought  up  to  a  pitch  of  intense  excite 
ment,  she  remained  indifferent,  and  with  feminine 
ingenuity  arranged  little  bouquets,  displaying  to  the 
best  advantage  the  brilliant  flowers  they  so  often 
picked  in  their  wanderings.  Manulito  had  learned 
from  this  child  to  love  the  flowers  as  he  never  did 
before,  and  often  in  his  wanderings  through  the 
forests  and  meadows  he  would  stoop  and  pick 
some  flower,  then  blow  its  petals  into  gentle  quiv 
ering  motion,  and  inhale  its  fragrance,  while  his 
thoughts  returned  to  those  excursions  so  thoroughly 
enjoyed  with  this  little  one  and  her  brother.  Then 
as  he  held  the  flower  from  him  and  gazed  into  its 
depths,  its  petals  were  transformed  into  a  childish 
face  with  golden  hair  and  laughing  eyes,  and  his 
eyes  assumed  their  mildest  look,  for  his  thoughts 
were  with  his  heart,  and  his  heart  was  with  the 
little  daughter  of  his  friend,  the  Gray  Eagle. 

They  had  returned  from  one  of  these  pleasant 
excursions  on  one  of  the  most  beautiful  days  of 
June,  and  as  they  neared  the  house,  Manulito 
carrying  his  little  friend  in  his  arms,  he  listened 
with  idolatrous  attention  to  her  chattering,  while 
she  laughed  in  childish  glee  and  playfully  tapped 
his  face  with  the  pink  and  purple  flowers. 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  155 

The  proud  Indian  was  a  slave  to  the  caprices  of 
this  little  one.  When  in  her  presence  he  seemed 
under  mesmeric  influence,  and  she  led  him  into 
contented  captivity. 

He  hated  the  white  race.  All  the  wrongs  his 
people  had  suffered  were  constantly  reverting  to 
his  mind.  His  people  were  dead,  he  was  alone, 
and  he  felt  that,  with  the  exception  of  Wellington 
and  his  family,  no  one  cared  for  him. 

In  his  excursions  he  had  visited  the  plains  and 
mountains  of  the  great  West.  He  had  gazed  across 
the  wide  waters  of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  And  when 
he  thought,  as  he  often  did,  of  the  encroachments 
of  the  whites,  who  had  robbed  his  people  and 
driven  them  from  the  lands  they  had  occupied  for 
generations,  and  then  of  the  unbounded  freedom, 
the  limitless  expanse  of  the  plains,  the  solemn 
grandeur  of  the  great  hills  and  mountains,  he 
longed  to  go  away  and  never  return.  He  felt 
chained  and  powerless,  tied  down  so  that  he  could 
not  revenge  the  wrongs  inflicted  on  his  race.  He 
lived  among  those  who  had  won  his  undying 
hatred ;  yet  he  knew  how  he  was  beloved  and  re 
spected  by  Wellington  and  his  family.  And  thus 
he  spent  his  days  and  nights  longing  to  go,  yet 
restrained  by  the  bonds  of  love  and  gratitude. 

The  only  love  he  had  ever  felt  for  a  woman  was 
for  his  mother.  He  had  lived  to  see  her  pass  away, 
in  her  last  moments  blessing  him  with  maternal 
love.  He  had  lived  to  see  his  father  die,  admon- 


156  MANULITO. 

ishing  him  of  the  folly  of  resisting  the  whites, 
cautioning  him  to  remain  their  friend  and  ally, 
and  prophesying  the  subjection  of  all  Indian  tribes. 
He  was  born  free ;  to  him  the  freedom  of  forest 
and  prairie  came  as  his  birthright.  He  saw  this 
freedom  wrested  not  only  from  his  people  but 
from  himself,  and,  at  first,  hatred  had  so  taken 
possession  of  his  heart  that  he  seemed  scarce  able 
to  control  himself.  He  feared  that  some  time  when 
laboring  under  the  mental  strain,  caused  by  his 
realization  of  great  wrongs,  he  would  commit  some 
act  that  he  would  ever  after  repent. 

But  his  life  with  Wellington  had  opened  a  new 
avenue  of  thought.  With  gentle  simplicity  he  had 
been  led  to  the  brink  of  love,  where  fraternal  affec 
tion  had  won  him,  and  the  bravery  of  his  little 
charge, — the  boy  who  looked  to  him  for  everything, 
who  constantly  sought  his  advice  on  all  those  points 
of  woodcraft  necessary  to  be  learned,  who  loved  to 
sit  and  listen  to  the  story  of  his  wanderings,  whose 
suggestions  led  to  a  recital  of  the  exciting  and  in 
teresting  portions  of  his  life,  these  had  all  touched 
him  deeply,  but  none  so  much  as  the  sweet  little 
maiden,  so  gentle  and  confiding, — too  young  for 
coquetry.  She  often  told  him  he  must  love  her, 
"'cause  she  lud  him  so,  and  always  would."  A 
touch  of  her  hand,  the  clinging  to  him  as  she  did, 
the  showing  of  every  little  item  of  interest,  the 
pinning  to  his  blanket  of  her  choicest  flowers, — all 
such  unsolicited,  thoughtful  deeds  of  her  innocent 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  157 

love,  her  childish  affection,  softened  his  proud  heart, 
and  he  feared  for  her,  and  loved  her  more  than  all 
the  world  besides. 

It  was  a  picture  to  see  them  together,  she  clasping 
his  great  hand  with  her  tiny  one,  he,  with  his  mar 
tial  bearing  and  proud  step,  lagging  behind  and 
keeping  pace  with  her,  as  she  often  said, — 

"  Turn,  Manulito,  we'll  be  sojers  and  march  to 
gether."  Then  she  would  mark  the  time,  and  they 
would  walk  in  step,  one  with  the  other. 

She  always  had  something  new  to  tell  him,  and, 
as  he  sat  beneath  some  great  tree,  she  nestled  close 
to  him,  and  he  was  her  confidant.  A  great  many 
secrets  she  had  for  him,  and  as  she  tossed  her  golden 
curls  back  and  looked  with  her  deep-blue  eyes  into 
his  keen,  dark  ones,  she  saw  in  them  only  an  image 
of  herself,  for  to  her  there  was  no  fierceness  in  his 
gaze,  but  in  its  stead  a  confiding  interest  and  love. 
And  she  it  was,  above  all  others,  who  caused  him 
to  delay  his  going;  for  the  only  solace,  the  only 
perfect  contentment  he  had,  was  when  in  her  cheery 
company.  And  thus  it  was  that  a  hatred  inherited 
for  generations  was  first  softened,  then  overthrown 
by  an  innocent  child.  But  her  influence  was  like 
balm  to  a  cruel  wound ;  her  presence  removed,  he 
relaxed  into  bitter  thoughts  and  enmity.  This 
childish  love  had  changed  the  man,  and  when  in 
his  bitterest  moments  he  resolved  to  go  to  the  far 
"West  and  wage  constant  war  against  those  who  had 
wronged  him  so  deeply,  the  sweet  innocent  face 

14 


158  MANULITO. 

always  appeared  before  him,  whether  he  was  on 
the  prairie,  in  the  woods,  or  dreaming  at  his  camp- 
fire.  He  tried  to  shake  off  this  feeling,  arguing 
that  she  was  but  a  child,  and  that  if  she  were  told 
of  his  following  the  teachings  of  his  race,  and 
waging  relentless  war  against  his  enemies,  she 
\vould  not  sorrow  over  it,  but  would  soon  forget. 
However,  he  knew  that  in  her  little  head  was  con 
cealed  more  than  childish  thoughts,  for  she  often 
asked  questions  that  astonished  them  all,  and  he 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  giving  her  one 
moment  of  pain.  But  though  he  felt  that  he  must 
go  away,  he  dreaded  the  sadness  of  parting,  for  it 
meant  the  deliberate  separation  from  all  that  was 
near  and  dear  to  him.  And  what  was  he  to  do  in 
his  anticipated  home  ?  That  he  hardly  knew,  and 
little  cared.  His  longing  was  to  go  far  from  the 
constantly- changing  scenes,  which  warned  him  that 
time  would  soon  wipe  out  all  traces  of  his  people. 
Already  game  was  becoming  scarce,  and  the  rifle 
was  fast  being  thrust  aside  for  the  shot-gun.  The 
birds  of  the  prairie,  the  grouse  and  quail,  which  he 
had  always  looked  on  as  cheery  companions  in  his 
hunts,  were  now  being  killed  for  pastime.  Many 
of  the  old  trails  were  converted  into  wagon-roads, 
and  the  stillness  of  the  woodland  was  almost  con 
stantly  disturbed  by  noisy,  creaking  wagons  or 
boisterous  teamsters. 

As  he  and  his  little  charge  reached  the  garden- 
gate,  the  girl's  brother  bounded  out,  and  said, — 


THE  DEPARTURE   OF  MANULITO.  159 

"  Why,  Manulito,  where  have  you  been  ?  I  have 
been  looking  all  around  for  you.  You  promised 
to  go  with  me  to-day  and  get  me  a  piece  of  hickory 
for  a  bow,  and,  besides,  to  teach  me  how  to  feather 
arrows." 

The  boy  had  his  hands  full  of  straight  pieces  of 
wood,  some  turkey  feathers,  and  a  small  bottle  of 
glue,  evidently  prepared  to  have  his  arrows  made. 

The  mother  caught  the  laughing  roll  of  mischief 
in  her  arms,  and  kissed  her  again  and  again,  while 
the  Indian  and  his  pupil  started  towards  the  woods 
which  bordered  the  house.  The  point  to  which  they 
were  going  was  evidently  a  try  sting-place,  and  they 
walked  side  by  side,  the  boy  carrying  on  a  running 
conversation.  He  was  completely  enraptured  with 
hunting,  and  told  how  he  had  been  promised  a  gun 
on  his  tenth  birthday,  how  he  was  going  to  try  to 
profit  by  what  the  Indian  and  his  father  had  taught 
him,  how  he  hoped  that  in  years  to  come  he  would 
be  as  good  a  shot  as  they,  and  concluded  by 
saying,— 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish,  Manulito,  that  I  may  live  to 
see  what  you  have  seen !" 

"  What  Manulito  has  seen  ?"  quickly  responded 
the  Indian.  "  May  the  Great  Manitou  have  pity 
on  you,  and  call  you  to  him  before  he  permits  that ! 
"What  Manulito  has  seen  ?"  continued  he  to  himself. 
"  I  hope  your  young  heart  will  never  suffer  as  mine 
has  in  seeing  my  people  driven  from  their  homes." 

The  boy  was  old  enough  to  know  he  had  touched 


160  MANULITO. 

a  tender  chord,  and  quickly  apologized,  declaring 
that  he  intended  no  wrong. 

They  soon  reached  the  destined  spot,  but  there 
were  other  occupants  before  them.  These  were 
not  human  beings,  but  the  babbling  brook  in  this 
sequestered  spot  was  known  to  bird-life,  and  they 
saw  a  pair  of  quail,  with  their  downy  brood,  gently 
sipping  the  water  as  they  approached.  A  sharp 
chittering  by  the  mother  admonished  her  children 
of  danger,  and  they  scampered  into  the  thick 
underbrush. 

The  Indian  and  the  boy  seated  themselves  beneath 
the  great  limb  of  a  magnificent  walnut-tree  that 
east  its  shade  for  many  yards  around.  The  sur 
roundings  had  never  before  seemed  so  pleasant  to 
the  Indian.  He  had  sat  beneath  this  tree  scores 
of  times  in  the  spring  when  the  wild  pigeons  in 
countless  thousands  had  filled  the  woods  and 
usurped  every  tree ;  in  the  summer-time  idling  the 
hours  away  visiting  with  his  young  friends ;  in  the 
autumn,  listening  for  the  gobbler's  call;  and  in 
wild  winter,  watching  for  the  deer  to  approach  for 
its  drink. 

As  he  sat  there,  the  boy  respected  his  silence  and 
busied  himself  with  his  arrows,  whittling  away,  in 
tending  that  Manulito  should  suggest  the  feathering 
and  finishing  touches. 

It  was  mid- afternoon,  a  time  when  the  day  was 
at  its  brightest.  The  silvery  clouds  floated  lazily 
in  the  heavens,  obscured  at  times  by  those  of  a 


THE  DEPARTURE   OF  MANULITO.  161 

lower  stratum  travelling  at  a  greater  speed.  The 
wind  soughed  gently,  in  musical  tones,  through  the 
tree-tops,  causing  them  to  bend  in  supple  graceful 
ness  at  the  recurring  breezes,  which  followed  one 
another  with  sufficient  regularity  to  keep  the  leaves 
in  constant  motion. 

Along  the  borders  of  the  tiny  stream  pond-lilies 
in  their  snow-white  bonnets  added  variety  and 
beauty  to  the  scene,  while  the  flitting  robins,  ori 
oles,  thrushes,  and  red-winged  blackbirds  darted 
through  the  openings  in  the  woods,  or  favored  the 
visitors  with  their  choicest  songs. 

The  air  was  delightful :  so  pure  that  every  breath 
inhaled  seemed  laden  with  the  perfume  of  forest 
and  meadow.  No  wonder,  then,  that  Manulito, 
ardent  worshipper  of  Nature,  revelled  in  the  charm 
of  their  retreat.  He  had  a  vivid  imagination  and 
had  seen  much  of  life.  His  was  not  a  religion  of 
books ;  he  did  not  worship  according  to  any  creed. 
He  felt  that  if  he  lived  as  his  father  had,  according 
to  the  teachings  of  his  tribe,  committing  no  crimes, 
worshipping  Nature  to  the  exclusion  of  all  except 
the  ever-living  God,  whom  he  recognized  in  the 
Great  Manitou,  then  his  reward  would  be  everlast 
ing  life.  Not  a  life  of  ease,  of  singing,  of  devo 
tional  exercises,  but  one  whose  happiness  consisted 
in  always  having  game  and  ponies  with  which  to 
hunt. 

Years  before,  when  he  had  visited  the  tribes  of 
the  great  West,  and  had  acquired  their  language, 
i  u* 


162  MANUL1TO. 

he  learned  that  they  anticipated  the  coming  of  a 
Messiah  ;  that  the  white  race  would  become  extinct, 
the  Indians  obtain  complete  possession  of  their 
lands,  and  game  be  as  plentiful  as  in  bygone  years. 
But,  as  he  saw  more  of  civilization,  he  realized  the 
impossibility  of  this,  and  believed  that  the  Messiah 
had  come,  but  that  it  was  the  Messiah  of  the  whites, 
and  that  by  His  teachings  and  example  He  had 
shown  what  a  Christian's  life  should  be.  Manu- 
lito  did  not  fear  death ;  he  had  nothing  to  live  for, 
and  really  felt  that  death  was  preferable  to  a  life 
passed  in  constant  misery.  Death  meant  to  him 
simply  a  transposition  of  his  soul  to  the  Happy 
Hunting-Grounds, — his  heaven, — where  he  would 
be  resurrected  and  live  again  as  he  had  lived  on 
earth,  where  sorrow,  suffering,  and  misery  would 
be  banished  forever,  and  where,  with  abundance 
of  game,  he  could  hunt  and  fish  to  his  heart's 
content. 

The  boy  had  nearly  completed  several  arrows  and 
finished  them  according  to  the  suggestions  of  Man- 
ulito.  They  were  straight  shafts,  headless  arrows, 
precision  in  flight  being  obtained  by  reason  of  the 
feathered  ends.  These  were  made  by  taking  a  stiff 
feather  of  a  turkey's  wing,  cutting  in  just  above 
the  quill,  where  the  feather  peeled  off,  taking  with 
it  a  thin  slice  of  the  quill.  This  served  as  a  strip 
or  foundation  for  cementing  it  to  the  shaft.  It  was 
then  glued  to  the  arrow,  and  another  piece  of 
feather  was  fastened  in  like  manner  directly  oppo- 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  103 

site.  The  feathered  strips  were  securely  tied  with 
fine  thread  for  the  glue  to  "  set,"  and  the  arrow  was 
laid  aside  to  dry,  when  the  feathers  were  to  be 
deftly  trimmed  to  make  the  flight  of  the  arrow 
perfect. 

The  boy  was  so  absorbed  in  his  work  that  he  did 
not  think  that  the  small  fly  which  so  persistently 
lit  on  the  rim  of  his  ear,  and  was  as  often  brushed 
away,  was  a  straw  in  the  hands  of  his  little  sister ; 
but  her  merry  laugh  disclosed  her  identity,  and 
with  it  the  presence  of  his  father  and  mother. 

Wellington  remarked  that  he  had  come  home 
unexpectedly,  and  as  the  day  was  too  fine  to  be 
spent  in-doors,  they  had  hunted  up  the  truants  and 
located  them  without  difficulty. 

As  he  and  his  wife  seated  themselves  on  the  soft 
greensward,  the  little  girl  ran  to  the  Indian,  sprang 
into  his  lap,  settled  herself  contentedly,  and,  looking 
archly  up  at  him,  said, — 

"  Did  I  hurt  you  ?  If  I'm  too  heddy,  I  won't 
stay  long." 

All  laughed  at  this,  and  the  Indian  made  no 
reply,  but  tenderly  twined  one  of  her  bright  sunny 
curls  around  his  strong,  dark  fingers,  while  his  eyes 
shone  with  a  light  that  denoted  how  deeply  his 
heart  was  touched  by  this  innocent  mark  of  the 
little  one's  love  and  confidence. 

"  What  a  relief  this  is  !"  exclaimed  Wellington, 
as  he  lay  supported  by  his  elbow.  "  To  feel  that 
one  is  absolutely  free  from  the  noise  and  confusion 


164  MANVL1TO. 

of  the  court-room,  and  away  from  the  jar  and 
clangor,  the  excitement,  the  wrangle  of  every-day 
life  that  is  thrust  upon  a  successful  lawyer.  I  some 
times  feel  utterly  disgusted  with  life.  To  see  what 
I  have  seen,  friends  turned  to  enemies  !  Relatives 
in  the  closest  degree  of  consanguinity  driven  apart 
because  of  some  difference  in  money  matters ! 
Then,  again,  the  difficulty  of  telling  which  of  two 
witnesses  is  testifying  to  the  truth !  I  have  seen 
such  duplicity,"  continued  he,  "  that  I  have  grown 
distrustful  of  a  man  even  under  oath.  Of  course, 
these  are  some  of  the  disagreeable  features  of  my 
profession,  and  they  are  more  than  offset  by  the 
delight  one  feels  in  being  an  honest  exponent  of 
that  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  civilized  world ; 
for  the  law  is  founded  on  truth  and  right,  while 
equity  steps  in  and  corrects  that  in  which  the  law 
is  deficient,  thus  guaranteeing  to  all  equal  justice 
and  the  enforcement  of  their  legal  rights.  But  I 
don't  intend  to  deliver  a  legal  lecture,  for  I  am 
happy  in  being  with  you  this  afternoon,  Manulito, 
and  I  want  to  enjoy  your  society.  Your  race,  Man 
ulito,  is  one  of  dreamers.  I  will  not  say  that  you 
idly  dream  your  time  away,  but  you  love  to  seek 
the  seclusion,  the  quietude  of  some  such  place  as 
this,  and  spend  the  time  away  in  some  romantic 
manner.  That  is  how  I  feel  to-day.  I  would  like 
to  wander  through  the  fields  of  romance,  following 
your  trail,  you  to  be  my  guide,  and  to  disclose  to 
us  the  many  things  you  saw  years  ago,  when  you 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  165 

visited  the  tribes  of  the  great  West.  I  will  be  an 
attentive  listener,  so  will  we  all ;  and  I  would  like 
to  have  you  tell  us  what  you  will  of  that  land, 
almost  unknown,  but  inhabited  by  the  Indian  tribes 
of  many  nations." 

"  Were  Manulito  to  tell  of  what  he  saw  and 
heard,  of  what  he  learned,  of  the  many  moons  he 
spent  among  his  far-distant  friends,  the  passing  day 
would  fall  asleep  under  the  mantle  of  the  ap 
proaching  night,  and  the  moon  would  smile,  and 
the  stars  glisten  above  us  before  the  story  was  half 
done." 

"  I  know,  Manulito,  you  have  much  to  relate, 
but  some  time  ago  you  promised  that  you  would 
tell  us,  and  you  will  never  find  a  better  opportunity 
than  now,  when  we  are  all  here.  I  would  like  to 
have  you  describe  the  country,  its  formation,  its  re 
sources,  its  climate,  its  hills,  mountains,  and  streams, 
its  customs,  game,  and  possibilities." 

"And  I,"  said  the  wife,  "would  like  to  hear  of 
its  people,  their  progress,  their  religion,  their  man 
ner  of  worship,  their  homes,  their  filial  and  pa 
ternal  love,  their  devotion,  their  nobility  of  soul, 
their  generosity  towards  their  fellow-men,  and 
whether  or  not  it  is  true  that  the  wife  and  mother 
is  subjected  to  menial  service  that  makes  of  her  a 
broken-hearted  drudge  and  slave." 

"  And  I,"  said  the  boy,  "  would  like  to  have  you 
tell  of  hunting  the  buffalo  and  elk,  the  fights  with 
grizzlies  arid  mountain-lions,  the  wars  between  the 


166  MANULITO. 

tribes,  and  all  about  the  braves  who  delighted  to 
fight,  and  didn't  fear  anybody;  and  all  about  their 
dogs  and  their  ponies,  and  everything  that  you 
would  like  to  have  told  you  by  a  brave  man  that 
had  seen  it  all, — that  is,  if  you  were  a  boy  eight 
years  old  and  about  my  size." 

At  this  sweeping  request  all  joined  in  a  hearty 
laugh.  Then  Wellington  turned  to  the  little  girl 
and  asked  her  what  she  would  like  to  have  Manulito 
tell  a  story  about.  At  this  she  ran  to  her  father, 
twined  her  plump  arms  around  his  neck,  kissed 
him  repeatedly,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  I  don't  care !  He  can  tell  what  he  has  a  mind 
to,  and  I'll  just  lud  you." 

Manulito  saw  the  impossibility  of  complying  with 
the  requests  of  all,  and  said, — 

"  Were  Manulito  to  tell  of  all  that  is  asked,  his 
story  would  become  tiresome  because  of  its  length. 
He  will  tell  then,  in  part,  of  what  he  saw  on  his 
visit  to  the  great  hills." 

As  he  prepared  to  commence,  his  quick  ear  heard 
a  musical  tinkle.  The  others  caught  it, — the  sub 
dued  chords  of  a  banjo.  Then  there  issued  through 
the  woods  strains  that  caused  the  birds  to  twitter 
and  sing  in  louder  tones,  as  if  to  welcome  their 
serenaders  in  this  their  bowery  home. 

They  recognized  the  voices  as  those  of  Uncle 
Rastus  and  Eph.  Their  song  was  a  plantation 
melody,  of  that  bright  character  that  caused  the 
listeners'  eyes  to  sparkle  with  delight. 


THE  DEPARTURE   OF  MANULITO.  167 

The  singers  then  changed  their  theme  to  a  sere 
nade.  Eph  sang  in  his  clear,  pure  soprano,  while 
his  father  modulated  his  tenor  voice  into  a  full  and 
mellow  alto. 

There  was  a  charm  about  their  singing  which 
only  those  present  could  realize.  The  serenaders 
were  hidden  from  view,  and  the  wind  blowing  so 
gently  through  the  forest  helped  to  soften  the  tones, 
now  subduing,  now  wafting  in  fullest  volume  to  the 
listeners  the  words  and  music  of  the  songs. 

"Wellington  and  his  wife  were  excellent  judges 
of  music,  and  as  the  singers'  voices  floated  smoothly 
from  majors  to  minors,  they  sat  listening  with 
pleasure  to  each  recurring  note. 

There  is  a  power  about  music  that  carries  one 
insensibly  with  its  tones,  whether  it  be  to  quicken, 
or  to  soothe  and  calm  the  feelings;  and  to  those 
who  listened,  one  of  the  chief  charms  was  the  in 
visibility  of  the  singers.  There  was  a  delightful 
uncertainty  as  to  their  whereabouts,  which  aroused 
curiosity,  and  made  more  pleasing  the  songs  which 
drifted  from  their  hiding-place. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  second  song  the  singers 
stepped  into  view,  and  were  received  with  generous 
and  continuous  clapping  of  hands.  The  darkies' 
faces  were  wreathed  in  smiles,  for  they  saw  their 
impromptu  singing  was  a  complete  surprise  and 
was  received  with  delight. 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  two  come  from  ?" 
inquired  Wellington. 


1(58  MANULITO. 

"  Jus'  f ' um  home,  Mars'  Wellington  !  Jus'  f ' um 
home !"  replied  the  elder.  "  Yo'  see  me  an'  Eph 
foun'  a  bee  tree,  an'  ter-day  Ah  'lowed  we  would 
take  de  missus  some  honey, — yer  it  is  in  dis  yer 
bucket.  Ah  tole  Eph  'e  done  bettah  take  'is 
banjo,  'caus'  w'y  de  chillun  mought  like  ter  heah 
?m  play  de  *  Debbie's  Dream'  or  de  '  Money  Musk,' 
or  de  missus  hear  'm  sing.  So  we  'lowed  we'd  go 
froo  de  woods.  We  heard  yo'  voices,  an'  jus'  ser'- 
naded  yo'.  But>  golly !  Ah  was  orful  skeered  feer 
yo'  would  heah  or  see  us,  an'  den  yo'  wouldn't  be 
s'prised." 

"  You're  just  in  time,"  exclaimed  Wellington, 
"  for  Manulito  is  going  to  tell  us  of  his  wander 
ings.  Sit  down  and  listen. — Now,  Manulito,"  said 
he,  "  we  are  ready." 

The  Indian  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  ground 
for  an  instant,  and  then  began, — 

"  In  dreary  days  and  sleepless  nights  the  time  of 
Manulito  was  passed  away, — this  was  many  moons 
ago, — for  in  the  daytime  he  wandered  through  the 
fields  and  forests,  and  at  night  he  laid  his  tired  body 
to  rest,  seeking  the  peaceful  sleep,  the  renewed  life 
which  did  not  come.  His  bed  was  the  dry  leaves, 
his  covering  his  blanket;  but  far  above  all  was 
the  star-lit  sky,  which  always  looked  down  on  him. 
Occasionally  he  drifted  into  forgetfulness ;  but  it 
was  for  a  short  time  only,  for  with  the  closing  of 
his  eyelids  his  soul  passed  into  another  land,  and 
sweet  refreshing  sleep  was  banished.  Manulito 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  169 

dreamed,  ever  dreamed  of  a  far-distant  land  where 
the  white  man  did  not  live;  where  the  Indians  had 
complete  possession  of  the  earth,  and  roamed  and 
fished  and  hunted  to  their  heart's  desire.  In  this 
manner  the  time  slowly  glided  away,  but  the  heart 
of  Manulito  was  sad,  for  he  longed  to  visit  this  un 
known  country.  The  spirit  of  unrest  seized  upon 
him,  and  one  time  when  the  spring  had  come, 
bathing  the  earth  with  melting  snow  and  warm, 
gentle  rains,  and  the  buds  were  bursting  on  the 
trees,  and  the  seeds  were  swelling  in  the  ground, 
the  robins  and  bluebirds,  as  they  sang  their  song, 
seemed  to  tell  Manulito  to  go  and  see  this  land  in 
the  distant  West  and  learn  of  its  people.  So  one 
night  when  the  world  was  asleep  Manulito,  guided 
by  the  North  Star,  started  on  his  journey  to  the 
West,  to  the  land  of  the  setting  sun.  His  was  not 
a  journey  with  many  people,  for  he  travelled  alone. 
Not  that  he  was  without  friends,  for  through  each 
and  every  day  the  flowers  brightened  his  pathway, 
and  the  birds  sang  to  him.  At  night  he  slept  as 
he  had  never  slept  before,  in  sweet,  sound  slumber, 
listening  to  the  song  of  the  whip-poor-will  and  the 
mellow  hooting  of  the  horned-owl ;  for  he  felt  that 
the  Great  Spirit  approved  of  his  journey,  and  would 
watch  over  him  and  protect  him. 

"  The  days  glided  quickly  by,  for  Manulito  did 

not  feel  lonely.     Was  he  not  born  in  the  woods  ? 

Yfas  not  his  whole  life  spent  amid  such  scenes  as 

these?      The   noise  of  the  city  was  never  heard 

H  15 


170  MANULITO. 

where  Manulito  was;  but  instead,  the  singing  of 
birds,  the  whistling  of  the  quail,  the  drumming  of 
the  grouse,  the  cooing  of  the  doves,  the  tinkling  of 
the  brooks,  the  murmuring  of  the  streams  and 
waterfalls,  bringing  the  most  delicious  music  to 
the  ears  of  him  who  lived  in  the  open  air  and 
called  the  prairies  and  the  woodlands  his  home." 

"  Weren't  you  afraid  of  getting  lost  or  of  being 
killed?"  inquired  the  boy. 

"Afraid  of  getting  lost?"  replied  the  Indian, 
with  an  incredulous  smile.  "Afraid  of  getting 
lost  ?  Does  the  eagle  lose  its  way  when  it  pierces 
the  clouds  through  the  limitless  sky,  or  the  elk  as 
it  traverses  the  pathless  woods,  or  the  wolf  in  its 
tireless  runs  over  hills  and  prairies  ?  Or  does  the 
wild  goose  lose  its  way  when  on  its  flights  each  half- 
year,  or  the  fish  in  the  deep  and  winding  streams  ? 
And  by  the  same  unerring  instinct  which  the  Great 
Spirit  has  given  to  these  Manulito,  too,  was  guided ; 
nor  was  there  with  him  the  fear  of  death ;  his  rifle 
protected  him  from  the  wild  beasts ;  his  skill,  from 
his  enemies.  And  if  he  were  killed,"  continued 
he,  thoughtfully,  "  what  of  it  ?  A  man  should  be 
happy  to  meet  death  while  doing  what  the  Great 
Spirit  intended  he  should,  for  death  does  not  take 
from  him  his  existence,  but  carries  him  to  another 
world,  where  he  resumes  the  unfinished  work  of  this. 

"  After  Manulito  had  travelled  many  days  the 
land  changed.  He  climbed  great  ragged  bluffs, 
whose  bare  sides  facing  the  west,  and  unprotected 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  171 

by  trees,  had  been  burnt  by  the  summer's  sun. 
Such  was  the  spot  where  Manulito  stood  and  gazed 
afar  over  the  bottom-lands,  into  the  winding  river, 
— the  swift-running,  the  ever-changing  Missouri. 
Here  he  looked  across  into  the  land  of  the  Omahas, 
a  quiet  people  with  whom  he  dwelt  a  welcome 
guest  for  many  days. 

"  After  Manulito  left  the  Omahas,  he  visited  the 
Loups  and  the  Pawnees,  the  Arapahoes  and  the 
Sioux.  As  he  wandered  towards  the  setting  sun 
the  trees  disappeared,  and  as  far  as  he  could  see 
were  vast  plains  of  waving  grass,  at  whose  outer 
edges  the  sun  rose  in  the  morning  and  sank  to 
rest  at  the  approach  of  night.  The  Great  Spirit 
had  been  generous  with  his  people  here,  for  the 
plains  were  blackened  here  and  there  with  herds 
of  buffaloes  or  brightened  with  curious,  timid  an 
telope.  And  still,"  he  continued,  in  deep  contem 
plation,  "  the  white  man  had  been  there,  for  the 
iron  shoe  of  his  horse  had  made  impress  on  the 
soil,  and  the  wheels  of  his  wagon  had  creased  the 
rank  grass.  Like  the  serpent  that  steals  in  to  bite 
and  sting  and  leave  misery  in  its  trail,  so  will  the 
white  man  always  prove  to  the  Indian  race.  They 
came  with  smiling  faces  and  deceitful  hearts  to 
rob  those  whose  fathers  had  lived  on  these  lands 
for  generations.  There  was  no  misery,  no  want, 
no  suffering  among  the  tribes  until  they  were 
cursed  by  the  presence  and  the  fire-water  of  these 
white  trespassers.  They  were  happy  in  their  free- 


172  MANULITO. 

dom,  their  love  of  hunting,  the  abundance  of  game, 
their  traditions,  their  religion.  But  the  whites 
came  with  a  Bible  in  one  hand,  a  rifle  in  the  other, 
and  the  Indian  lost  his  home,  his  standing,  his 
independence,  forever." 

The  bitterness  of  his  tones  conveyed  to  his 
hearers  the  deep  hatred  that  dwelt  in  Manulito's 
heart  towards  the  white  race. 

"  And  yet,"  continued  he,  "  they  blame  the  In 
dian  for  his  cruelty.  It  is  his  mode  of  warfare  to 
severely  punish  his  enemy,  in  order  that  by  the 
death  of  one  the  many  may  take  warning  and 
avoid  him.  Is  he  to  be  blamed  that  he  strikes  for 
his  liberty,  his  home,  his  wife,  his  children  ?  Can 
you  say  that  he  loves  all  these  less  because  the 
Great  Spirit  made  his  skin  red  instead  of  white  ? 
And  if  even  the  animals,  the  bears,  the  wolves,  the 
dogs, — ay,  even  the  tiny  wren, — will  protect  their 
young,  will  fight  for  their  homes,  would  not  the 
Indian  be  lower  than  these  beasts  if  he,  endowed 
with  reason,  with  strength,  with  weapons,  stood 
still  and  saw  his  home  despoiled,  his  father  mur 
dered,  his  children  scattered  ?  Would  not  the  In 
dian  be  less  than  human  if  he  refused  to  punish 
those  who  thus  injured  him  ?" 

As  Manulito  paused  for  breath,  his  eyes  flashed 
and  his  breast  heaved  in  great  excitement.  Wel 
lington  appreciated  his  feelings,  and  sympathized 
with  him,  but  he  desired  to  change  the  tenor  of 
the  story,  and  said, — 


THE  DEPARTURE   OF  MANULITO.  173 

"  Manulito,  I  understood  from  what  you  once  said 
to  me  that  you  settled  among  the  warlike  Sioux." 

The  Indian  stared  at  the  speaker  for  an  instant, 
then  collecting  his  thoughts  and  apparently  regret 
ting  his  violent  language,  said, — 

"  The  Gray  Eagle  is  right :  Manulito  visited  many 
tribes,  but  his  youthful  spirit  was  like  the  Sioux'. 
This  was  before  Manulito  had  lost  his  hand.  He 
lived  with  them  for  many  moons,  and  among  all 
the  tribe  there  was  none  fleeter  of  foot,  none  so 
sure  with  the  arrow  or  rifle,  as  Manulito.  They 
invited  him  to  remain  and  become  one  of  them. 
He  fought  with  them,  and  so  pleased  were  they 
that  they  made  him  a  chief,  and  he  has  promised  to 
return  to  them  some  day.  From  them  he  learned 
many  things.  He  joined  in  their  war-dances,  the 
Sun-Dance,  the  Corn-Dance,  the  Buffalo-Dance,  the 
Ghost-Dance.  He  learned  that  the  customs  of  these 
people  were  those  of  his  people ;  that  good  deeds 
were  rewarded  and  evil  ones  punished;  brave 
warriors  admired  and  praised  and  cowards  made 
squaws  of  as  in  his  own  tribe.  They  told  Manulito 
of  a  Messiah  that  would  come  to  earth,  and  that 
this  Messiah  would  be  for  the  Indians.  And  this 
is  what  they  said  and  believe : 

"  Years  ago,  when  these  trees  which  now  shelter 
us  were  saplings  and  seedlings,  when  herds  of  deer 
were  ever  to  be  found,  when  the  Indian  roved  over 
this  whole  land,  taking  what  he  needed,  but  never 
injuring  the  supply,  there  came  to  the  far  East 

15* 


174  MANULITO. 

winged  canoes  filled  with  men.  While  these  men 
were  strange  in  appearance,  pale  as  if  they  had 
never  faced  the  sun  in  his  noonday  anger,  or  the 
wind  in  his  wild  wanderings,  still  they  were  re 
ceived  with  all  kindness  by  the  tribes  that  dwelt 
near  the  ever-living  waters.  These  men  had  ways 
as  strange  as  were  their  faces,  for  though  they 
had  been  received  with  all  the  kindness  of  a  sim 
ple  people,  still,  with  no  regrets,  they  broke  their 
treaties  and  promises  with  the  Indians.  What 
chance  had  a  people  armed  only  with  arrows  and 
war-clubs  against  such  beings  as  these?  It  was 
of  no  use  now  to  try  to  drive  them  away.  Like 
leeches  they  clung  to  this  rich  land  upon  which 
they  had  fastened  themselves.  The  pale-faces  did 
not  depart,  but  it  came  about,  little  by  little,  that 
those  who  had  received  them  with  open  arms 
were  driven  from  their  accustomed  haunts. 

"Who  can  tell  how?  But  true  it  is  that  the 
story  of  the  terrible  deeds  of  these  pale-faces  soon 
came,  no  one  knew  from  whence,  to  distant  tribes. 
Perhaps  the  breeze  that  filled  the  woodlands  brought 
it,  or  the  birds  as  they  returned  in  the  spring.  Then 
came  surer  tidings  from  those  who  had  seen  these 
strange  men,  and  who  had  been  driven  from  their 
homes.  And  at  last,  as  they  had  been  warned, 
came  the  intruders  themselves.  Their  ways  were 
pleasant  and  their  words  as  sweet  as  the  sap  of  the 
maple  in  the  spring-time. 

"  After  many  moons  there  appeared  a  deliverer 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANVLITO.  175 

to  the  red  men,  who  came  as  silently  as  the  green 
leaves  in  spring-time.  From  tribe  to  tribe,  from 
nation  to  nation,  he  went,  imploring  them  to  resist 
the  advances  of  the  white  men  while  yet  there  was 
time. 

"  This  prophet  related  all  the  events  that  would 
come  to  pass  were  not  the  strangers  driven  away. 
'  Already,'  said  he,  '  is  the  Great  Manitou  dis 
pleased;  for,  see,  the  plains  which  he  has  made 
beautiful  with  waving  grass  and  nodding  flowers 
they  have  invaded.  With  their  strange  tools  they 
have  torn  the  grass  from  the  earth,  leaving  it 
brown  and  bare,  and  they  have  sowed  seed,  and 
the  ground  is  covered  with  plants  which  were  not 
intended  for  this  country.  He  is  not  pleased  that 
his  work  should  be  disturbed,  and,  as  a  punish 
ment,  he  will  drive  away  the  game  which  has 
hitherto  been  so  plentiful.' 

"  But  the  words  of  the  wise  man  were  unheeded, 
and  when  he  found  that  it  was  in  vain  he  labored, 
he  vanished  with  the  leaves  in  the  autumn,  as 
silently  as  he  had  come. 

"  He  told  them  that  the  Great  Father  was  dis 
pleased  with  them  because  they  had  not  answered 
when  called,  and  that  now  he  would  leave  them  to 
their  own  devices  until  they  were  ready  to  accept 
the  things  that  were  done  for  their  good.  He 
would  go,  but  he  would  come  again  when  they 
most  needed  him.  He  taught  them  strange  dances 
and  ceremonies  for  the  different  seasons,  and  told 


176  MANULITO. 

them  that  when  the  time  was  come  for  the  new 
Leader  to  appear,  signs  would  be  given  them. 
Then  should  they  practise,  night  and  day,  these 
things  that  he  had  appointed.  By  their  faithful 
ness  in  this  matter  the  time  of  their  waiting  would 
be  shortened,  for  by  these  dances  they  would  be 
come  brave  men,  and  it  pleases  not  the  Great 
Manitou  to  keep  brave  men  in  sorrow.  His  teach 
ings  are' followed,  and  the  Sun-Dance  which  he  in 
stituted  has  made  the  bravest  warriors  that  have 
ever  been  known. 

"  Among  other  things,  this  prophet  told  them  of 
a  Messiah  who  had  been  sent  to  the  white  man,  but 
who  had  not  been  accepted  by  them.  He  had 
been  mistreated  and  put  to  death,  so  that  on  his 
return  to  earth  the  next  time  he  would  come  as  a 
Messiah  to  the  red  men,  and  would  show  his  dis 
pleasure  against  the  white  race  by  driving  them 
from  the  country. 

"  When  the  invaders  learned  of  the  faith  of  the 
Indians,  they  laughed  at  their  beliefs  and  ridiculed 
them  in  every  way;  but  the  Indian's  religion  is 
as  sacred  to  him  as  is  Christianity  to  the  white 
man." 

"  I  agree  with  you  there,  Manulito,"  interrupted 
Wellington.  "  There  is  but  one  true  religion,  that 
is  the  worship  of  the  ever-living  God.  Every  na 
tion  has  its  manner  of  worship,  but  it  all  tends  to 
the  same  end, — everlasting  life  in  the  presence  of 
the  Creator.  How  that  can  best  be  obtained  is  a 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  177 

question  which  will  always  be  a  subject  of  dispute. 
The  Catholics,  the  Presbyterians,  the  Methodists, 
— each  sect  regards  its  form  -of  worship  as  the  right 
one ;  but  although  the  outward  showing  of  their 
religion  is  different,  the  desire  for  the  ultimate  end 
is  the  same  with  them  all.  The  Messiah  of  the 
white  man  appeared,  he  was  crucified,  and  arose 
from  the  dead.  But  he  is  not  the  one  whom  all 
nations  desire,  or,  I  would  better  say,  accept,  and, 
therefore,  the  Jews  look  for  the  coming  of  their 
Messiah,  the  Christians  for  their  Christ,  the  savages 
for  their  Mahdi,  and  the  legends  of  the  sleep  of 
the  German  Emperor  Frederick  and  the  Welsh 
King  Arthur  tell  of  others  who  anticipated  similar 
events.  I  respect  the  religion  of  every  man  and 
every  nation  when  the  devotee  follows  his  convic 
tions  devoutly  and  conscientiously;  for  while  we 
all  claim  to  be  right  in  our  views,  we  cannot  say 
that  others  are  altogether  wrong,  and  I  have  the 
utmost  reverence  for  a  religion  which  has  been  ac 
cepted  for  generations  by  the  Indians,  which  has 
existed  for  ages,  and  has  passed  down  from  father  to 
son  without  question.  They  have  the  same  right  to 
believe  in  the  coming  of  a  Messiah,  to  expect  the 
redress  of  their  wrongs  and  the  reward  for  their 
steadfastness,  as  the  white  men  have.  Both  have 
a  religion  of  faith,  an  element  which  is  essential 
in  every  belief  which  promises  a  future  reward. 
While  I  do  not  agree  with  the  red  men,  still  I  am 
glad  to  hear  of  their  beliefs  and  their  expectations, 

m 


178  MANULITO. 

and  in  me  and  mine  you  have  not  only  willing  but 
sympathetic  listeners." 

The  Indian's  glance  conveyed  his  thanks  for  the 
kindly  words,  and  he  continued, — 

"  One  day,  after  the  departure  of  their  would-be 
deliverer,  an  old  Indian,  who  had  lived  far  beyond 
the  greatest  age  ever  attained  by  one  of  his  tribe, 
fell  asleep.  He  slept  for  hours,  the  hours  lengthened 
into  days,  and  still  he  did  not  waken.  All  thought 
he  was  dead,  but  the  medicine-men  said  he  was 
alive  but  sleeping.  At  last  he  awoke,  and,  calling 
all  the  men  of  his  tribe  together,  said, — 

"  '  Be  not  fearful !  I  have  been  in  the  land  of  the 
blessed.  Call  the  nation  together,  that  I  may  tell 
them  what  I  have  seen  and  heard.  My  body  was 
with  you,  but  my  spirit  was  in  another  land,  a  land 
where  buffalo  and  ponies  were  so  plenty  that  they 
scarce  found  room  to  graze.  As  I  looked  with  de 
light  on  the  scenes  in  this  newly-discovered  country, 
the  spirits  who  were  my  guides  spoke  to  me.  Their 
voices  were  low  and  soft  and  sweet,  and  they  said 
that  the  Great  Spirit  is  angry  with  us,  and  that 
unless  we  refrain  from  wickedness  He  will  destroy 
us,  and  we  shall  never  see  that  beautiful  land.  But 
if  we  follow  his  commands  He  will  ever  look  kindly 
on  the  red  men,  and  will  sweep  the  white  men  from 
the  continent.  They  promised  that  we  should 
always  have  plenty  of  game,  and  that  the  white 
men  should  never  be  seen  again ;  that  the  Indians 
who  were  dead  should  be  restored  to  life,  and  the 


THE  DEPARTURE   OF  MANULITO.  179 

body  of  every  dead  white  man  be  changed  to  a 
buffalo.  These  spirits  then  said  that  we  must  dance 
till  the  coming  of  our  Messiah, — the  Ghost-Dance, 
the  Fire-Dance,  and  the  Sun-Dance.' ' 

"  But  why  were  they  to  dance  ?"  interrupted  the 
boy.  "  Couldn't  they  fight  or  do  something  besides 
dancing?  I  don't  see  how  dancing  made  them 
fearless." 

To  which  Manulito  replied,  "  Dancing  is  a  part 
of  the  Indian's  religion.  He  dances  when  he  re 
joices  and  when  he  mourns,  when  he  starts  on  the 
war-path  and  when  he  returns,  and  he  shows  his 
penitence  by  self-torture  in  these  ceremonies.  When 
he  has  danced  a  long  time  and  his  heart  is  warmest, 
his  body  is  on  earth,  but  in  his  mind  he  sees  a 
picture  of  spirit-land,  and  talks  with  his  friends 
who  are  dead.  At  one  time  a  prophet  said  he  had 
been  visited  by  a  person  who  had  been  dead  for 
years,  and  this  person  came  to  him  and  gave  him 
a  piece  of  fat  buffalo-meat.  The  next  night  the 
prophet  stepped  into  the  circle  of  the  dance  bearing 
a  wooden  platter  full  of  meat.  He  called  up  the 
dancers, — there  were  more  than  a  hundred  of  them, 
— and  after  all  had  eaten  the  platter  was  more  than 
half  full." 

"  But  tell  us  of  the  Sun-Dance !"  exclaimed  Wel 
lington. 

"  One  of  the  ceremonies  in  which  the  Indians 
participated  when  they  expected  the  coming  of  the 
Messiah,"  said  Manulito,  "  is  the  Sun-Dance.  They 


180  MANUL1TO. 

were  not  obliged  to  take  part  in  this,  but  all  Indians 
want  to  be  considered  warriors,  and  they  are  always 
anxious  to  prove  their  bravery.  Joining  in  the 
Sun-Dance  is  the  most  severe  test  they  have.  When 
they  are  ready  to  begin,  old  warriors  attach  long 
strings  of  rawhide  to  the  centre  pole  of  a  wigwam. 
The  breast  of  the  Indian  is  cut  and  pieces  of  wood 
thrust  through  the  opening;  the  long  strings  of 
rawhide  are  tied  to  these,  and,  facing  the  sun,  while 
they  all  sing  their  low  chants,  the  brave  dances  and 
swings  his  body,  trying  to  tear  himself  loose.  This 
cannot  be  done  for  hours.  Sometimes  he  faints, 
but  he  does  not  yield,  and  tugs  and  pulls  until  he 
snaps  the  sinews  of  his  own  breast.  Then  he  is 
free,  and  is  received  as  a  warrior,  ever  afterwards 
wearing  deep  scars  of  his  torture.  All  the  time  he  is 
trying  to  break  loose  he  shows  no  sign  of  pain,  nor 
sighs,  nor  groans,  but  swings  and  throws  his  weight 
against  the  cords  until  the  flesh  gives  way.  He  can 
be  set  free  any  time  if  he  asks  it ;  but  then  he  is 
called  a  squaw-man  and  cannot  fight  with  warriors. 
"  When  Manulito  was  with  his  red  friends  he 
saw  much  that  was  new  to  him,  for  his  tribe  had 
been  subdued  by  the  whites  when  he  was  a  child, 
and  these  strange  customs  brought  back  to  him 
what  his  father  had  often  told  him  of  the  bravery, 
the  cunning,  and  the  wild  life  of  a  free  Indian.  But 
the  days  slipped  swiftly  by,  and  Manulito  wandered 
farther  towards  the  land  of  the  setting  sun.  As 
the  days  grew  longer,  he  rested  in  the  shadows  of 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO. 

the  great  rocks  and  trees,  and  journeyed  at  night, 
guided  by  the  light  of  the  moon  and  the  path 
pointed  out  by  the  Great  and  Little  Bear  and  the 
Pole  Star.  It  seemed  now  as  if  Manulito  was  in 
another  land,  for  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood  were 
gone.  The  rolling  prairies  were  no  more ;  the  deer 
had  changed;  the  grouse  were  wearing  coats  of 
blue ;  the  hills  had  grown  into  mountains,  where 
the  sun  smiled  warmly  in  the  valleys,  and  the  peaks 
were  white  in  their  robes  of  snow.  The  quail  of 
the  Mississippi  Valley  had  disappeared,  and  in  their 
stead  the  bushes  were  alive  with  crested  quail,  which 
ran  and  chatted,  waving  their  long  topknots  as 
they  hid  from  view.  Beautiful  flowers,  far  more 
handsome  than  Manulito  had  ever  seen  before, 
blossomed  everywhere,  and  the  trees  had  grown  to 
such  a  height  that  they  seemed  to  reach  the  clouds, 
while  one  of  them  was  larger  than  any  fifty  that 
he  had  ever  seen  before.  <  This,'  thought  Manulito, 
1  is  Paradise, — the  Happy  Hunting-Grounds, — for 
no  other  world  could  be  brighter,  no  air  purer,  no 
forest  more  beautiful  than  this.' 

"  In  a  few  days  he  sat  and  looked  far  away  to 
where  the  sun  was  just  going  to  rest, — it  seemed  as 
far  from  him  as  ever.  Manulito  could  go  no  farther, 
for  he  sat  on  the  shore,  as  the  day  went  to  rest,  and 
he  saw  the  sun  sink  into  the  Pacific  Ocean.  The 
waters  rippled,  showing  rainbow-colors,  while  the 
sky,  blushing  from  the  kisses  of  the  sun,  was  radiant 
with  shadings  of  rose  and  white  and  gold. 

16 


182  MANULITO. 

"  But  the  night  is  coming  on,  and  we  must  go. 
The  day  is  nearly  gone,  and  soon  the  dew  will  fall 
as  the  sun  sinks  behind  the  hills." 

"  Go  on,  Manulito !  Go  on !"  exclaimed  Wel 
lington.  "  We  are  not  weary  of  your  story,  and 
the  night  is  hours  away.  But  perhaps  you  are 
tired  of  talking,  tired  of  telling  us  of  your  life." 

"  Manulito  tired  ?"  queried  he.  "  No  !  no !  He 
could  sit  and  talk  of  his  life  not  only  for  hours  but 
for  days,  and  it  would  but  make  him  the  happier, 
for  Manulito  has  no  friends,  he  has  no  home,  except 
here.  His  life  is  like  a  dream, — it  has  been  and  is 
not.  When  he  questions  the  reality  his  senses 
seem  to  desert  him.  He  loves  to  sit  where  he  can 
breathe  the  pure  air  of  heaven,  and  sleep  and 
dream  forgetting  the  sad  past  and  hoping  for  a 
brighter  future.  This  is  a  beautiful  spot,  and  here 
Manulito,  when  tired  of  the  world,  has  often  come 
and  rested,  listening  to  the  sweet  songs  of  the  birds 
or  gazing  at  the  floating  clouds,  idly  dreaming  the 
time  away.  But  there  is  one  spot  made  holy  to 
him,  because  it  is  his  mother's  grave,  that  is  dearer 
than  this.  Away  up  on  the  bluffs,  where  from  their 
majestic  heights  he  can  look  down  over  the  tall 
tree-tops  into  the  fertile  bottom-lands  of  the  Missis 
sippi,  where  the  living  world  looks  into  the  calm 
mirror  of  waters  and  sees  the  reflection  of  its  thou 
sand  trees,  where  islands  in  their  green  suits  are 
bound  by  the  running  river,  where  the  meadows 
nestle  between  the  groves  of  elm  and  willow,  where 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  183 

bluffs  in  broken  ledges  pierce  the  sky, — that  is  the 
spot  which  Manulito  loves  best  of  all.  But  why 
talk  of  this  ?  It  is  time  to  go." 

At  this  they  rose,  and  as  they  wended  their  way 
homeward  a  silence  fell  upon  them  all.  Welling 
ton  felt  that  it  would  be  but  a  short  time  before  the 
spirit  of  unrest  would  seize  upon  the  Indian,  and 
he  would  leave  them,  perhaps  forever.  He  knew 
the  war  that  was  raging  in  Manulito's  heart,  his  de 
sire  to  leave  these  scenes  of  past  sorrow,  his  wish  to 
go  where  he  could  try  to  bury  the  past  and  begin  life 
anew,  and  he  did  not  intend  to  urge  him  to  remain. 
He  had  sometimes  wondered  at  the  strong  friend 
ship  which  existed  between  them.  But  Welling 
ton  had  seen  much  of  the  world,  and  was  broad 
and  liberal  in  his  views.  He  was  a  physiognomist, 
and  had  that  keen  perception  which  reads  one's 
thoughts  during  an  apparently  rambling  conversa 
tion.  He  had  seen  the  glitter  of  the  world,  the  de 
ceit  of  individuals,  and  experience  had  taught  him 
an  invaluable  lesson,  how  to  separate  the  dross  from 
the  pure.  Thus  it  was  that  with  him  time  served  to 
strengthen  and  deepen  the  regard  he  had  for  Manu 
lito,  for  in  him  he  found  both  a  friend  and  a  brother. 
The  blood  of  consanguinity  did  not  flow  in  their 
veins,  but  the  bond  of  sympathy,  of  respect,  of 
pure  love,  held  sway  in  their  hearts.  It  was  sel 
dom  that  their  mutual  affection  found  vent  in  words, 
but  whether  in  the  woods  or  at  home,  their  eyes 
never  met  without  speaking  for  them  the  love  they 


184  MAXULITO. 

bore  for  each  other.  Wellington  knew  that  be 
neath  the  swarthy  skin  of  Manulito  there  beat  as 
true  a  heart  as  man  ever  possessed.  He  had  taken 
great  delight  in  teaching  the  Indian,  for  he  was  not 
only  a  willing  but  a  brilliant  pupil.  His  mind  was 
one  of  vast  resources  :  his  thoughts  were  poetical, 
and  his  life  infused  into  his  mind  and  heart  those 
rare  virtues  learned  only  by  those  who  have  associ 
ated  with  Xature  in  all  her  moods.  His  voice  was 
melodious,  and  when  he  talked  his  face  expressed 
the  feelings  he  sought  to  convey,  and  it  was  like  en 
joying  the  sweetest  music  to  listen  to  him.  He  was 
a  natural  orator,  like  many  of  his  race  ;  his  inspira 
tion  came  from  his  love  for  out-of-door  life,  and 
when  he  spoke,  the  earth,  the  sky,  the  water,  the 
seasons,  and  animated  Xature  served  to  illustrate 
his  thoughts.  He  had  for  years  been  brought  into 
contact  with  the  whites,  and  had  acquired  their 
language,  speaking  it  fluently;  their  words  helped 
him  to  express  himself,  but  his  manner  of  speech 
was  entirely  individual.  As  Wellington  said, k*  Man- 
ulito's  speech  is  like  a  rivulet  of  water.  It  flows 
gently,  carrying  one  with  it,  until  its  musical  tones 
thrill  through  the  listener." 

And  Manulito  was  an  equally  ardent  admirer  of 
Wellington.  He  loved  him  with  all  the  strength  of 
his  flerce,  wild  nature.  It  was  a  passionate  love, 
founded  on  gratitude,  and  graven  deeply  on  his 
heart  by  reason  of  continued  and  unsolicited  kind 
nesses.  His  friendship  for  Wellington  had  con- 


THE  DEPARTURE   OF  MANULITO.  185 

stantly  increased  because  of  the  latter's  brilliancy 
and  learning.  Although  the  event  was  never  men 
tioned  between  them,  yet  Manulito  often  thought 
of  the  time  he  had  fired  at  Wellington  in  the  forest, 
and  though  he  knew  he  had  long  since  been  for 
given,  he  yet  craved  opportunities  to  prove  his  re 
pentance  and  his  love.  He  would  have  been  glad 
at  any  time  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friend,  and 
his  only  regret  would  have  been  that  he  could  no 
longer  show  his  affection. 

As  they  sat  at  the  supper-table  that  night,  Wel 
lington,  who  was  usually  the  soul  of  mirth,  and 
seemed  to  have  a  never-ending  fund  of  jollity  upon 
which  to  draw,  was  disinclined  to  talk,  and  the 
others  caught  his  mood,  so  that  the  meal  was  eaten 
in  comparative  silence. 

When  the  children  were  ready  for  bed,  Manulito 
watched  their  every  motion.  After  they  had  kissed 
their  papa  and  mamma  good-night,  the  little  girl 
kneeled  down,  clasped  her  hands,  and  with  upraised 
eyes  concluded  her  prayer  with  the  words  "  and 
God  bless  Manulito  and  keep  him  well."  This 
evidence  of  childish  affection  almost  unmanned 
him,  and  as  she  put  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
he  buried  his  strong  face  in  her  sunny  curls  to 
hide  his  emotion.  Then  he  showered  kisses  on 
her  neck,  her  forehead,  her  hair,  until  she  said  to 
him, — 

u  Who  has  hurt  you,  Manulito  ?  Your  eyes  look 
as  if  you  had  been  crying." 

16* 


186  MANULITO. 

Her  father  understood  all,  and  tenderly  taking 
her  in  his  arms,  carried  her  to  bed. 

When  the  hoy  came  to  say  "  good-night,"  Manu- 
lito  was  himself  again,  and,  stroking  the  lad's  brown 
hair,  said, — 

"  The  years  will  glide  quickly  by.  They  will  be 
years  of  joy  and  sorrow.  The  Great  Spirit  has 
blessed  you  with  a  kind  father  and  mother.  From 
your  mother's  daily  life  you  will  gain  lessons  that 
you  will  never  forget,  for  from  her  you  will  learn 
to  pity  the  unfortunate,  to  sympathize  with  the 
afflicted,  to  help  the  poor,  to  aid  the  sick,  to  lead 
such  a  life  that  the  world  will  be  benefited  because 
you  have  lived ;  for  the  Great  Spirit  has  been  gen 
erous  to  her,  and  has  given  her  all  those  virtues 
which  make  her  presence  as  welcome  as  the  warm 
sunshine  is  to  the  sick-room. 

"  And  your  father, — you  will  always  love  him,  for 
he  is  wise  and  good.  In  after-years,  when  you  be 
come  a  man,  the  most  pleasant  words  that  can  reach 
your  ears  will  be  those  that  tell  you  that  you  are 
like  your  father.  You  love  your  parents  now,  but 
time  alone  can  teach  you  the  depths  of  that  love ; 
for,  when  they  are  dead  and  you  stand  at  their 
graves,  a  voice  will  come  to  you  from  the  heavens 
where  they  will  live  again,  reminding  you  of  your 
kindness,  and  accusing  you  of  every  unkind  word 
or  deed  of  yours  that  ever  brought  a  pang  of  sor 
row  to  their  hearts.  Then  love  and  respect  your 
parents.  Honor  your  father  and  mother.  For  no 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  1MANULITO.  187 

success  you  can  attain  in  this  life  will  console  you 
for  any  act  which  brings  sorrow  to  them." 

The  boy  looked  in  astonishment  at  Manulito,  for 
while  he  had  occasionally  received  advice  from  himr 
he  had  never  heard  him  speak  in  this  way,  and  he 
said,  wonderingly, — 

"  Are  you  sick  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Manulito. 

"  Are  you  going  away  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Never  mind  asking  questions,  son,"  said  "Wel 
lington.  "  It  is  time  for  you  to  retire." 

The  boy  looked  interrogatively  first  at  one  then 
at  the  other,  gave  Manulito's  arm  a  squeeze,  and 
left  the  room. 

They  sat  in  silence  a  few  moments,  each  appar 
ently  waiting  for  the  other  to  speak,  when  Welling 
ton  said, — 

"We  are  not  blind,  Manulito,  and  we  can  see 
that  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  leave  this 
place,  but  the  time  of  your  departure  we  know 
not." 

"To-night!"  exclaimed  Manulito. 

"  And  where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  To  the  mountains  and  the  prairies.  To 
live  again  the  life  the  Great  Spirit  intended  for 
me." 

Wellington  arose,  walked  slowly  across  the  room, 
turned,  and,  facing  the  Indian,  said, — 

"  We  have  known  each  other  so  long  that  I  un- 


188  MANULITO. 

derstand  why  you  leave  us,  and  I  do  not  blame  you 
for  going.  You  know  that  in  this  house  you  are 
as  welcome  as  my  own  brother.  There  is  nothing 
that  I  could  do  for  him  which  I  would  not  do  for 
you.  When  we  part  with  you  it  will  be  with  sad 
hearts;  but  we  will  hope  that  in  years  to  come 
your  thoughts  will  turn  this  way,  and  your  love  for 
us,  for  our  old  hunting-grounds,  for  that  sacred 
spot  where  rests  your  dear,  dead  mother,  will  touch 
the  tender  chords  of  your  heart,  and  you  will  come 
back  to  us.  But  I  can't  say  more,  my  heart  is  too 
full  for  speech."  And  Wellington  bit  his  lips  to 
suppress  his  emotion.  Manulito  concealed  his  own 
grief,  and  without  a  semblance  of  pain,  a  tremor 
of  voice,  looked  tenderly  at  Wellington  and  his 
wife,  and  replied, — 

"  All  that  is  near  and  dear  to  Manulito  is  in  this 
house,  and  when  he  thinks  of  leaving  here  it  seems 
as  if  he  were  going  to  tear  himself  from  his  world. 
When  first  he  came  here  he  was  like  a  ship  without 
a  rudder,  drifting  before  the  wind.  He  lived, — not 
that  life  seemed  worth  the  living,  but  because  he 
had  dared  death  many  times,  and  it  never  came. 
His  heart  was  fierce ;  he  hated  all  men,  and  lived 
only  for  revenge.  But  by  your  hands  the  wounds 
of  many  years  have  been  healed,  and  this  spot  has 
become  sacred  to  him.  At  first  his  heart  failed  to 
receive  the  impress  of  loving  acts,  and  when  he 
realized  your  kindness  his  life  seemed  a  dream  too 
strange  to  be  true.  His  brother  has  been  so  kind 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  189 

that  the  Great  Spirit  will  bless  him  for  it.  Manulito 
has  not  deserved  all  this, — he  did  not  expect  it, — 
and  many  times  kind  words  and  generous  acts  have 
been  like  drops  of  molten  lead  poured  into  his  heart. 
He  had  always  thought  that  the  time  would  never 
come  when  his  hatred  would  cease  towards  a  single 
member  of  the  white  race.  But  the  deep  interest 
you  have  taken  in  him — you  with  whom  Manulito- 
has  lived,  you  who  have  clothed  and  fed  him — has. 
made  his  heart  yours  and  not  his  own. 

"  But  he  is  going  away.  And  why  not  ?  He  can 
do  nothing  here.  Then  let  him  go,  carrying  with 
him  your  best  wishes  and  your  prayers,  and  know 
that  the  lessons  he  has  learned  from  you  will  not 
be  forgotten.  He  goes  to  live  the  life  of  a  free 
man.  His  home  will  be  the  boundless  prairies,, 
where  he  will  hunt  the  buffalo ;  he  will  war  with 
the  enemies  of  his  adopted  tribe,  and  for  the  sake 
of  the  love  he  bears  you  all  he  will  never  raise  his 
hand  against  a  woman  or  a  child.  He  will  be  happy 
on  the  great  prairies,  and  his  deeds  shall  win  the 
praises  of  his  adopted  tribe.  At  night,  tired  from 
hunting,  or  from  his  wars  with  his  enemies,  he  will 
sleep  sweetly  with  the  stars  shining  above  him,  and 
in  dreams  he  will  be  with  you  and  the  little  ones,, 
hunting  with  you,  his  brother,  or  gathering  flowers, 
in  the  valley  with  the  child  he  loves.  And  per 
haps  some  day  you  will  hear  of  a  strange  warrior,, 
of  one  who  feared  not  death,  one  whose  name  struck 
terror  to  his  enemies,  and  then,  if  they  tell  you 


190  MANULITO. 

aright,  they  will  say  that  he  was  fair  in  war,  and, 
although  an  Indian,  was  merciful  to  all.  And  this 
will  please  you,  for  you  will  know  that  Manulito's 
heart  did  not  forget  its  love  for  you.  And  then, 
perhaps,  we  will  meet  again.  You  will  not  stay 
here  long,  for  this  is  no  place  for  Manulito's  brother ; 
the  field  is  not  large  enough.  But  when  you  live 
in  a  great  city,  will  you  not  sometimes  think  of 
Manulito  ?  Manulito  the  Indian  !  A  savage,  per 
haps,  and  yet  he  loves  you  better  than  man  will 
ever  love  you  again.  And  when,  at  times,  the  Gray 
Eagle  sits  in  his  office,  he  will  let  his  thoughts 
wander  to  the  Wapsie,  to  the  bottoms  where  he 
and  Manulito  have  so  often  hunted  and  slept  to 
gether.  And  when  Manulito  strikes  down  a  buffalo 
or  a  deer,  or  camps  beside  some  beautiful  stream, 
he  will  think  of  the  Gray  Eagle,  and  his  only  regret 
will  be  that  his  brother  is  not  with  him,  for  without 
him  the  pleasures  of  the  woods  will  be  but  half 
enjoyed.  But  the  moon  is  at  its  greatest  height, 
the  stars  warn  Manulito  to  start,  and  as  he  goes  he 
prays  that  the  Great  Spirit  will  shower  his  blessings 
on  this  house." 

As  he  said  this,  he  advanced  to  Mrs.  Wellington 
and  knelt  before  her.  She  placed  her  hand  on  his 
head,  and  in  a  voice  broken  with  emotion  ex 
claimed, — 

"  May  God  bless  you,  and  so  direct  your  steps, 
Manulito,  that  those  with  whom  you  dwell  will  be 
blessed  by  your  coming !" 


THE  DEPARTURE  OF  MANULITO.  191 

Wellington  could  not  speak,  but  grasped  the 
Indian's  outstretched  hand,  and  they  all  walked 
out  of  the  house.  As  they  did,  a  horse  neighed  to 
them,  and  Wellington  said, — 

"  Manulito,  you  know  that  horse.  I  bought  him 
from  Kirtley,  and  he  is  young,  fleet  of  foot,  cour 
ageous,  and  tireless.  Take  him.  And  may  he  be 
the  means  of  lightening  your  journey  and  giving 
you  pleasure." 

As  he  concluded,  Uncle  Rastus,  who  had  been 
passing  with  the  horse,  stepped  forward,  placed 
the  reins  in  Manulito's  hands,  and  Imp  o'  Darkness 
had  a  new  owner.  Manulito  bowed  his  thanks, 
sprang  on  the  horse's  back,  said  a  last  good-by, 
and  rode  slowly  away. 

The  night  was  beautiful,  and  Wellington  watched 
the  retreating  figures  as  they  threaded  in  and  out 
between  the  trees.  Then  they  disappeared  for  an 
instant,  but  in  a  moment  were  again  visible  on  a 
knoll  where  horse  and  rider  were  sharply  outlined 
against  the  sky.  Manulito  must  have  known  that 
his  friend  was  still  watching,  for  he  paused  an 
instant  with  arm  uplifted,  waving  a  last  farewell, 
and  then  disappeared  over  the  brow  of  the  hill. 
Wellington  stood  as  if  in  a  trance,  looking  with 
strained  eyes,  but  Manulito  was  gone.  Then  his 
wife  said, — 

"  Come,  Will !     Come !" 

He  looked  at  her,  and  said,  in  a  voice  trembling 
with  emotion,— 


192  MANUL1TO. 

"  There  goes  the  truest  heart  that  ever  beat. 
God  bless  him !  God  bless  him !" 

Then  nervously  clutching  his  wife  by  the  arm, 
he  walked  unsteadily  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE  MESSENGER. 

"  Thou  art  too  wild,  too  rude,  and  bold  of  voice ; 
Parts  that  become  thee  happily  enough, 
And  in  such  eyes  as  ours  appear  not  faults ; 
But  where  they  are  not  known,  why,  then  they  show 
Something  too  liberal." 

SHAKESPEARE. 

IT  was  now  nearly  five  years  since  Manulito  had 
said  farewell  to  his  friends.  "Wellington  and  his 
family  were  still  at  the  old  homestead,  but  they 
saw  the  futility  of  remaining  much  longer,  for  a 
man  of  Wellington's  acknowledged  ability  could 
not  tie  himself  down  to  a  place  where  his  practice 
compelled  him  to  travel  with  teams  in  a  judicial 
circuit  throughout  which  his  services  were  in  con 
stant  demand.  His  scattered  practice,  furthermore, 
necessitated  his  absence  from  home  a  greater  part 
of  the  time,  and  this  was  peculiarly  distasteful  to 
him,  for  he  was  a  man  deeply  attached  to  his 
family,  and  exceedingly  domestic  in  his  habits. 
During  the  excitement  and  worry  of  the  many 


THE  MESSENGER.  193 

trials  in  which  he  was  engaged,  he  always  looked 
through  the  clouds  of  legal  wars  and  saw  beyond 
the  haven  of  rest  at  his  little  home  on  the  farm, 
where  love  and  constancy  ever  welcomed  him  with 
open  arms. 

He  knew  the  brilliancy  of  his  mind,  the  depth 
of  thought  he  possessed,  the  intuitive  faculty  of 
discernment,  his  power  of  analysis  of  any  subject. 
But  while  he  saw  all  these  things  which  were  evi 
dent  to  those  with  whom  he  was  brought  into  con 
tact,  he  was  neither  vain  nor  egotistical,  and  the 
light  of  his  intellect  shone  brightest  when  struck 
by  the  spark  of  some  opposing  element. 

The  gift  of  intellect  which  Nature  had  dealt  him 
with  such  a  lavish  hand  he  made  the  foundation 
on  which  he  built  his  legal  and  oratorical  successes. 
"When  he  began  the  practice  of  law,  he  saw  that, 
while  young  both  in  years  and  experience,  his  ser 
vices  were  in  demand  in  every  important  trial  in 
his  locality.  This  did  not  fill  him  with  vanity,  but 
was  the  spur  that  urged  him  on  to  merit  his  victo 
ries  and  to  make  him  worthy  of  the  compliments 
so  freely  given  him.  He  was  not  ignorant  of  the 
influence  he  carried  in  his  arguments,  and  con 
stantly  strove  to  improve  his  mind  and  to  add  to 
his  store  of  knowledge,  so  that  the  power  to  create 
sympathetic  emotion,  with  which  he  knew  he  was 
gifted,  would  flow  from  the  spring  of  a  mind  which 
was  the  receptacle  of  truth,  history,  and  learning. 
He  knew  that  the  power  of  a  man's  arguments 
in  17 


194  MANULITO. 

would  soon  be  lost  unless  back  of  them  there  was 
a  mine  of  wisdom  and  learning;  that  wit  or  im 
passioned  utterances  at  the  bar,  unsupported  by 
legal  knowledge,  would  have  little  weight;  and 
that  the  eloquent  lawyer,  if  not  also  profound, 
would  be  a  failure  compared  with  the  prosaical 
jurist  who  had  the  statutes  always  at  his  tongue's 
command.  He  was  a  student,  and  his  disciplined 
mind  enabled  him  to  retain  what  he  read.  He 
was  literary  in  his  tastes,  and  took  pardonable 
pride  in  both  his  legal  and  private  libraries.  He 
wanted  to  probe  to  the  bottom  all  subjects  in  which 
he  was  interested,  and,  therefore,  when  in  the  study 
of  law  new  points  were  at  all  times  being  suggested, 
his  great  mind  sought  to  grasp  them  all.  Accord 
ingly,  he  studied  ancient  and  modern,  history,  the 
classics,  mythology,  but  especially  the  history  of 
England,  for  in  the  old  law-books  of  that  country 
and  in  the  Bible  he  reached  the  origin  of  the  sub 
ject,  and  learned  that  generations  before  statutes 
existed  the  world  was  ruled  by  the  Common  Law, 
which  was  simply  the  established  customs  of  the 
people. 

Many  who  heard  his  speeches  did  not  realize 
that  his  brilliancy  of  thought,  the  beauty  of  his 
rhetoric,  was  the  result  of  profound  study.  They 
were  charmed  by  the  melody  of  his  voice  as  its 
silver  tones  reached  the  recesses  of  the  court-room, 
but  when  in  sarcasm  he  tore  to  pieces  some  argu 
ment  advanced  by  his  opponent,  or  with  judicial 


THE  MESSENGER.  195 

wisdom  presented  some  hidden  point  of  law,  or 
with  supreme  confidence  quoted  some  familiar 
maxim  known  principally  to  his  profession,  or  with 
fervent  eloquence  swayed  his  audience  by  his  beau 
tiful  comparisons,  and  then  from  brilliant  similes 
drifted  into  the  deepest  subjects,  showing  the  depths 
of  his  researches,  they  did  not  realize  that  this  elo 
quence  was  the  result  of  days  and  nights  of  the 
most  ardent  study. 

He  loved  poetry.  His  favorite  authors  were 
Shakespeare  and  Milton,  and  in  the  poems  of 
Burns  he  often  found  thoughts  which  inspired  him 
to  loftier  language,  and  insensibly  changed  his 
words  to  poetical  prose.  When  speaking,  he 
seemed  to  have  his  hearers  under  mesmeric  in 
fluence.  "When  he  denounced  some  act  as  deserv 
ing  the  scorn  of  honest-minded  men,  all  were  with 
him;  and  when  he  pled  for  sympathy  or  mercy, 
his  impassioned  speech  won  for  him  the  support 
of  judge  and  jury.  Few  could  resist  the  power 
of  his  eloquence,  and  many  a  man  who  at  first 
withstood  his  pleadings  felt  his  set  lips  relax,  and 
his  moistened  eyes  told  the  story  of  the  surrender 
of  his  heart.  As  Wellington's  reputation  increased 
with  his  years,  the  knowledge  that  he  was  to  plead 
a  cause  would  fill  a  court-room.  To  a  certain  ex 
tent  his  eloquence  was  the  means  of  creating  oppo 
sition  to  his  client,  for  the  jury,  forewarned  of  his 
persuasive  powers,  would  sit,  not  always  to  study 
the  merits  of  the  case,  but  determined  to  resist  the 


196  MANULITO. 

brilliancy  of  his  speech.  This  increased  his  lahors ; 
hut  if  their  hearts  were  of  iron,  his  reasoning  was 
a  drill  of  steel,  and  soon  pierced  their  armor. 

Time  in  its  revolutions  wrought  wondrous 
changes  in  the  scenery  where  this  story  is  founded. 
The  dense  forests  were  swept  away  hy  the  settler's 
axe,  while  civilization,  in  its  onward  progress,  con 
verted  rolling  prairies  into  cultivated  fields.  Here 
and  there  little  farm-houses  dotted  the  fields.  The 
deer-paths  and  the  hunters'  trails  were  broadened 
into  wagon-roads.  The  creeks  were  spanned  hy 
bridges,  primitive  as  yet  in  their  construction,  and 
the  land  was  occupied  by  incoming  strangers. 

The  hunters'  paradise  was  a  thing  of  the  past, 
for  big  game  was  growing  scarce,  and  only  an  oc 
casional  deer  was  killed.  There  was  still  an  abun 
dance  of  small  game,  both  fur  and  feather,  but  to 
one  who  had  for  years  tested  his  skill  against  the 
antlered  kings  of  the  forest,  this  afforded  but  in 
different  sport.  Wellington  hunted  but  seldom. 
The  journeys  were  so  arduous,  game  being  so  hard 
to  find,  that  each  season  he  found  himself  less  in 
clined  to  hunt.  But  his  resolutions  to  quit  hunting 
were  but  the  outbursts  of  disappointed  feeling,  not 
an  evidence  of  a  change  of  heart,  for  he  still  loved 
the  fields  and  forests  and  the  solitude  of  Nature. 
When  one  has  been  a  devotee  of  out-of-door  life,  a 
passionate  lover  of  field  sports,  those  feelings  are 
never  entirely  lost.  When  oppressed  by  the  trials 
of  business,  when  his  tired  body  demands  rest  and 


THE  MESSENGER.  197 

recuperation,  the  recollection  of  the  green  fields, 
the  quiet  woods,  and  some  spot  where  he  can  rest 
and  enjoy  the ,,  beauties  of  Nature,  comes  back  to 
him.  And  he  longs  to  be  away  from  mankind, 
where,  amid  the  solitude  of  his  surroundings,  he 
can  dream  the  hours  away. 

So  it  was  with  Wellington.  When  he  thought  of 
leaving  this  section  where  so  many  of  his  happiest 
days  had  been  spent,  like  a  clinging  vine  these 
thoughts  wound  their  tendrils  around  his  heart,  and 
he  was  loath  to  leave  a  place  so  sacred  to  him.  He 
felt  that  when  he  made  the  change,  the  bustle  and 
activity  of  city  life  would  keep  him  from  the  places 
he  loved  so  well.  But  he  could  not  remain  here, 
fcr  he  knew  that  it  would  be  an  injustice  to  his 
family  and  to  himself,  and  he  had  therefore  made 
all  arrangements  to  leave  and  practise  his  profes 
sion  in  one  of  the  larger  cities. 

The  years  had  passed  quietly  at  the  old  home 
since  Manulito  left,  and  the  children  were  the  blos 
soms  of  perfect  health.  The  boy  was  sun-browned 
and  dark,  an  expert  with  bow  and  arrow,  obedient 
and  yielding,  yet  so  bold  and  fearless  that  he  would 
catch  some  wild  colt,  and,  with  a  rope  for  a  bridle, 
ride  it  while  it  ran  its  swiftest  over  the  rough 
ground,  leaped  the  ditches,  and  tried  to  free  itself 
of  its  rider. 

With  the  little  maiden  the  five  years  had  but 
added  to  her  beauty  and  simplicity,  and  she  had 
grown  into  a  lovable  girl  of  nine.  Her  sweet  man* 

17* 


198  MANVL1TO. 

Tiers  had  not  deserted  her,  for  the  intervening  years 
had  only  added  to  her  graces.  Her  tall,  slender 
form,  her  perfect  teeth,  her  violet  ev.es,  her  golden 
hair,  which  hung  in  curls  over  her  shoulders,  her 
merry  smile,  her  sunny  disposition,  attracted  every 
one  to  her,  and  she  was  the  light  and  happiness  of 
this  little  home. 

They  all  remembered  Manulito  well,  his  beauti- 
ful  sentiments,  his  noble  character ;  and  often  they 
sat  before  the  crackling  fire,  hour  after  hour,  while 
Wellington  told  of  the  exciting  incidents  which 
happened  when  Manulito  and  he  were  together  on 
their  many  excursions.  They  loved  to  talk  of  this 
absent  friend,  and  hoped  that  some  day  he  would 
return  to  them.  Each  remembered  him  according 
to  the  individual  impression  received.  To  the  boy 
he  was  chivalrous,  learned,  wise  in  the  knowledge 
of  woodcraft ;  to  the  girl,  kind  and  affectionate,  so 
willing  to  go  with  her  to  gather  flowers,  so  gener 
ous,  so  appreciative  when  she  showed  her  childish 
love ;  while  Wellington  and  his  wife  remembered 
him  as  a  man  of  noblest  mould,  possessing  a  heart 
as  true  as  steel  and  of  the  grandest  impulses. 
There  was  a  charm  to  Wellington  in  recalling  what 
he  knew  of  Manulito,  for  when  he  talked  of  him 
it  brought  the  sweetest  recollections  of  his  past 
life  ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  veil  were  lifted,  and  he 
and  Manulito  were  together,  hunting,  fishing,  or 
sitting  in  some  favorite  nook  in  the  forest.  It  was 
a  dreamy  retrospection  in  which  he  loved  to  dwell. 


THE  MESSENGER.  199 

One  night  the  family  were  sitting  by  the  fire 
place.  It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  and  though 
the  days  were  mild,  the  nights  were  cool  enough  to 
make  the  warmth  of  the  fire  agreeable.  Welling 
ton  had  been  speaking  of  Manulito,  and  as  he 
finished,  the  boy  exclaimed, — 

"  And  don't  you  ever  hear  from  him,  papa  ?" 

To  which  Wellington  replied,  "I  have  never 
heard  a  word  from  him  until  to-day." 

"  To-day  !"  they  all  spoke  in  unison. 

"  Yes,  to-day  I  heard  from  him.  It  was  in  an 
unexpected  fashion;  but  the  messenger  proved  a 
most  welcome  one,  and  I  have  good  news." 

"  Good  news !"  exclaimed  the  mother.  "  Oh,  I 
am  so  glad !  He  is  coming  home  !" 

"  No,  no  !  ISTot  that !  He  is  not  coming  home ; 
but  let  me  tell  you  what  I  heard." 

At  this  the  mother  dropped  her  sewing,  and  the 
boy  and  girl  seated  themselves  at  their  father's 
feet,  their  eyes  sparkling  with  expectancy,  as  he 
said, — 

"  I  sat  in  my  office  this  morning,  deeply  engrossed 
in  looking  up  authorities  and  making  a  brief  pre 
paratory  to  arguing  a  demurrer,  when  the  door 
opened,  a  man  entered  the  room,  and,  after  ex 
changing  with  me  the  courtesies  of  the  day,  seated 
himself  composedly  in  a  chair.  He  was  a  stranger 
to  me,  and  from  a  casual  glance  at  his  dress  and 
general  appearance  I  took  him  to  be  a  farmer.  My 
mind  was  intent  on  the  point  I  was  studying,  and 


200  MANULITO. 

therefore  I  gave  him  only  an  occasional  look.  In 
reply  to  my  inquiry  if  I  could  do  anything  for  him, 
he  said,  '  Not  just  now.  Go  ahead  with  your  work, 
judge.'  He  was  surely  complimentary  in  the  title 
he  gave  me  ;  but,  as  I  dug  through  my  books,  I  felt 
somehow  that  the  man  was  making  a  study  of  me. 
At  times  I  looked  up  suddenly,  and  invariably 
caught  his  eyes,  though,  as  he  met  my  glance,  he 
would  look  indifferently  away.  Finally,  I  must 
confess,  my  curiosity  got  the  better  of  me,  and  I 
began  a  study  of  my  caller.  He  was  of  medium 
height,  tanned  from  exposure,  and  his  whiskers, 
moustache,  and  hair  were  of  a  faded  brown  color. 
On  his  head  was  a  battered  felt  hat  that  had  origi 
nally  been  white,  but  through  the  exigencies  of 
long  wear  had  acquired  a  shade  which  was  inde 
scribable  ;  his  coat  was  a  faded  yellow ;  he  wore  a 
1  hickory'  shirt,  '  blue  jeans/  and  his  feet  were  en 
cased  in  brogans  which  were  thickly  covered  with 
dust,  showing  what  had  been  his  mode  of  trav 
elling. 

"  I  must  confess  I  took  great  pleasure  in  studying 
this  specimen  of  humanity,  and  I  tried  hastily  to 
form  an  opinion  of  him,  his  errand,  and  his  occu 
pation.  It  was  evident  to  me  that  he  was  penni 
less,  and  yet  there  was  an  indifferent  abandon  about 
him  that  told  plainly  of  his  satisfaction  with  the 
world  in  general.  I  pretended  to  take  no  interest 
in  him,  but  he  kept  me  under  constant  surveillance, 
until  at  last,  as  if  through  with  my  studies,  I  closed 


THE  MESSENGER.  201 

my  books,  and,  turning  to  him,  said,  (  Well,  my 
friend,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?' 

"At  this  he  looked  at  me  intently,  and  said, 
1  Squire,  you've  been  studyin'  me  for  some  time, 
but  you  don't  know  me.  I  am  a  tourist.'  Then 
he  laughed,  and  said,  <  In  plain  words,  a  tramp. 
You  can't  do  any  law  business  with  me,  but  I've 
suthin'  to  say  to  you  that  will  interest  you.  I'll 
have  to  ask  you  some  questions  fust;  but  before 
we  begin,  I  want  to  say  with  truth,  and  I'll  sw'ar 
to  it  if  you  want  me  to,  that  I  heven't  had  a  bite  for 
twenty-four  hours ;  and  you  know  how  it  is  your 
self,  when  a  man's  stomach  is  empty  he  ain't  in  no 
condition  to  talk.  !N"ow,  if  I  was  a  millionaire,  or 
had  a  few  dollars,  I  wouldn't  talk  this  way ;  but 
I'm  bu'sted, — completely  broke, — and  I  want  you 
to  lend  me  a  quarter.  Then  I'll  get  suthin'  to  eat 
and  come  back ;  and  if  you  are  the  man,  then  I've 
news  for  you  that  will  please  you.' 

"  Of  course  I  gave  him  the  quarter,  for  some  way 
I  felt  that  he  had  something  to  say  which  would  in 
terest  me,  and  naturally  I  was  anxious  to  hear  it. 
He  went  out  and  soon  returned,  having  evidently 
made  good  use  of  the  quarter,  for,  as  he  seated 
himself,  he  took  a  generous  chew  from  a  great 
plug  of  tobacco,  and  said  he  was  ready  to  begin. 
At  once  I  discovered  that  he  was  to  be  the  ques 
tioner,  and  I  was  to  be  thoroughly  investigated,  for 
he  began, — 

" '  Squire,  I  don't  want  you  to  take  offence,  but 


202  MANULITO. 

what  I  ask  you  about  you  will  soon  find  my  reasons 
for.' 

"  Then  he  asked  me  if  my  name  was  Wellington, 
and  if  my  wife  had  black  hair  and  beautiful  brown 
eyes.  I  was  proud  to  reply  in  the  affirmative,  and 
thank  him  for  the  compliment  so  worthily  bestowed. 
Then  he  wanted  to  know  if  I  had  two  children, 
a  boy  and  a  girl;  and,  next,  he  asked  if  an  old 
darky  worked  for  us  named  Uncle  Rastus.  I 
watched  him  eagerly  as  he  disclosed  his  knowledge 
of  our  family,  and  tried  to  identify  him,  but  I 
couldn't  place  him.  Then  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
ever  lived  around  here.  He  answered  that  this 
was  his  first  visit,  and,  divining  my  thoughts, 
said, — 

"  Now,  Squire,  don't  try  to  locate  my  phiz,  for 
you  can't  do  it.  I'm  a  stranger  here.  This  is  my 
fust  trip  through  these  parts,  and  I'm  simply  on  the 
back  trail  through  the  States.  You  wonder  what 
I'm  doin'  here,  and  I'll  tell  you.  I'm  here  to  keep 
my  word,  to  see  you  and  your  wife  and  little  ones 
face  to  face,  and  deliver  my  message  accordin'  to 
promise.' 

"  At  this  I  was  more  mystified  than  ever,  for  I 
could  not  imagine  what  this  man  might  have  to  say 
to  us.  I  could  scarcely  withhold  my  impatience, 
and  insisted  that  he  tell  me  at  once  what  his  errand 
was.  He  appeared  to  take  delight  in  my  eagerness, 
but  retained  his  knowledge  as  a  kind  of  delicious 
morsel,  until  finally  I  said, — 


THE  MESSENGER.  203 

"  *  Tell  me,  my  good  man,  what  you  intend  to. 
Please  don't  delay  it  any  longer.  Tell  me  where 
you  came  from  and  who  sent  you.' 

"  At  this  he  rose,  walked  up  to  me,  and  said, — 

"  '  I  come  from  the  plains  !  I  come  to  keep  my 
sacred  pledge  to  the  Lone  Chief,  Manulito  !' 

"  On  hearing  the  name  we  love  so  much,  I  grasped 
both  his  hands,  and  asked  him  about  twenty  ques 
tions  in  one  breath. 

"  I  must  have  talked  very  excitedly,  for  he  raised 
his  hand  and  said, — 

"  <  Not  now  !  Not  now !  My  errand  must  be 
delivered  to  all  of  you, — yourself  and  your  family.' 

"  So  he  promised  to  come  here  to-night,  and  it 
is  time  for  him  now.  Hark !  Yes  !  I  hear  heavy 
footsteps.  It  must  be  he." 

Saying  this,  he  opened  the  door,  and  the  stranger 
entered.  As  Wellington  greeted  him,  he  asked  him 
his  name,  and  then  said, — 

"  Mr.  Martin,  I  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing 
you  to  my  wife,  our  son,  and  our  little  girl." 

"It  is  scarcely  necessary,  Squire,  to  interduce 
your  family,  for  the  description  given  me  would  tell 
me  whose  children  they  are." 

Notwithstanding  his  effort  to  appear  self-pos 
sessed,  he  seemed  a  trifle  ill  at  ease,  for  he  said, — 

"  I  ain't  very  handsome  in  this  outfit.  What 
luggage  I  have  don't  bother  me  to  carry,  for  I 
wear  it  all  the  time.  I  ain't  much  for  style. 
Workin'  don't  agree  with  me,  and  my  stomach  is 


204  MANULITO. 

BO  constituted  that  it  can  be  empty  for  a  couple  of 
days  or  be  overloaded;  it's  all  the  same  to  me. 
My  wealth  don't  bother  me  any.  I  don't  make  any 
debts,  'cause  no  one  is  fool  enough  to  trust  me; 
and  if  I  had  money  I  couldn't  keep  it.  I  don't 
worry  any,  'cause  worry  shortens  every  man's  life. 
I've  got  a  heap  of  travellin'  yet  to  do ;  my  old  legs 
will  give  out  some  day,  and  when  they  do,  I  expect 
I'll  turn  up  my  toes  'side  of  some  hedge,  or  be 
found  a  stiff  in  some  honest  man's  barn.  There 
fore  I  intend  to  take  life  easy  and  accept  things  as 
they  come." 

"  You  are  certainly  a  philosopher,"  said  Wel 
lington. 

"Hardly  that,  Squire!  Hardly  that!  For  I 
think  that  what  you  call  philosophy  is  jest  good 
hoss  sense.  We  all  know  about  what's  right  in 
this  world,  but  it's  mighty  hard  allus  to  carry  it 
out.  We  don't  all  agree, — good  thing  we  don't. 
I  go  my  way, — got  no  relatives, — it's  nothin'  to 
nobody,  so  no  complaint  comin'.  But  I  promised 
to  tell  you  about  your  Injun  friend.  Say  the  word 
and  my  story  begins." 

"  All  right,"  said  Wellington ;  "  we  are  all  ready 
and  waiting." 

At  this  the  queer  guest  took  in  a  fresh  supply  of 
tobacco,  and  said, — 

"  Appearances  are  not  deceivin'  in  my  case,  for 
I'm  a  queer  duck,  and  while  you  mought  hurry  me 
by  suggestin'  things,  then  ag'in  you  mou^htn't; 


THE  MESSENGER.  205 

'cause  I'm  like  a  wild-cat :  you  can't  most  allus  tell 
which  way  I'm  goin'  to  jump.  So  with  me  the 
probabilities  are  that  the  longest  way  round  '11  be 
the  shortest  cut.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  tell  much  of  my 
life,  'cause  that's  neither  here  nor  thar,  but,  as  the 
preacher  says,  <  in  the  course  of  my  peregrinations 
I  may  refer  incidentally  to  the  subject  not  under 
discussion.'  Purty  big  words  for  a  man  of  my  cut 
to  use,  don't  you  think  ?" 

"Wellington  and  his  wife  smiled  at  this,  for  they 
began  to  feel  almost  as  much  interest  in  the  man  as 
in  his  story,  while  the  children  thought  him  the 
oddest  specimen  of  humanity  they  had  ever  seen. 

"  I've  tramped  through  all  the  States  and  Terri 
tories,  and  the  longer  I  live  the  funnier  the  world 
seems  to  me.  When  I  fust  come  to  your  office,  I 
didn't  know  but  what  I  had  made  a  misdeal ;  but 
you  showed  your  hand,  I  felt  I  had  as  good,  so  I 
stayed.  If  you  had  made  a  bluff,  I'm  thinkin' 
your  jags  would  have  lost  the  game ;  but  you 
played  honest  with  me,  and  Jim  Martin  don't  go 
back  on  no  man  what  gives  him  a  squar'  deal. 
But  to  my  story.  I  hoofed  it  across  the  plains 
with  a  gang  of  gold-hunters  goin'  to  'Frisco,  mined 
awhile,  made  some  money,  and  spent  it  a  heap 
faster  than  I  made  it.  But  it  wasn't  no  use;  I 
wasn't  contented.  I  prospected,  but  was  down  on 
my  luck  most  of  the  time,  and  twice  I  had  a  for 
tune  slip  away  from  me.  Once  I  sold  a  claim  for 
two  thousand  dollars.  For  a  few  weeks  I  painted 

18 


206  MANULITO. 

the  town,  but  the  money  soon  went,  and  I  was 
bu'sted.  And  then,  what  do  you  think?  That 
same  claim  that  I  had  dug,  picked,  washed,  and 
worked  in  for  two  solid  years, — the  same  infernal 
one  that  I  sold  for  a  miserable  two  thousand, — 
with  in  two  weeks  afterwards  they  sunk  a  shaft  six 
feet  farther,  and  sold  out  for  seventy-Jive  thousand 
dollars  I  Think  of  it,  seven  thousand  five  hundred 
tenners!  In  fact,  that  was  the  kind  of  luck  I 
played  in  all  the  time. 

"  Then  I  drove  stage,  whacked  cattle,  fought, 
bled,  and  came  mighty  nigh  dyin'  with  the  Injuns; 
indeed,  was  so  long  with  them  that  I  can  speak  most 
any  Injun  language.  If  I  couldn't  I  wouldn't  be 
here,  for  that's  the  way  I've  got  out  of  a  good  many 
scrapes  with  the  reds  ;  and  I  wanter  tell  you,  right 
here,  that  I  ain't  got  no  love  for  any  of  them, — no, 
it's  hardly  fair  to  say  that,  for  I  do  feel  uncommon 
kind  towards  your  friend,  and  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  he  has  a  heap  whiter  heart  than  the  average 
white  man. 

"You  see,  I  was  guide  across  the  plains  for 
years,  and  knowed  all  the  tricks  of  the  redskins. 
I'd  never  happened  to  run  across  the  Injun  they 
called  the  '  Lone  Chief,'  but  he  had  the  reputation 
of  bein'  the  greatest  warrior  they  had.  He  could 
outrun  or  outshoot  any  of  them ;  he  was  the  biggest 
brave  in  all  the  tribes,  and  in  their  councils  he 
always  took  the  lead,  while,  when  it  came  down  to 
speech-makin',  he  took  the  cake,  and  would  have 


THE  MESSENGER.  207 

taken  the  ice-cream  and  spoon  too  if  they  had 
had  any.  His  hoss  had  an  equal  reputation,  and 
nothin'  on  the  plains  could  touch  him  for  speed. 
He  was  jet-black,  and  they  called  him  the  'Evil 
Spirit.'  They  had  a  high-toned  name  for  him, 
4  Imp  o'  Darkness/  but  plain  words  are  good  enough 
for  me,  and  I  allus  called  him  the  '  Devil.' 

"  Last  summer  I  was  guidin'  a  train  across  the 
plains.  The  men  were  the  most  disgusted  lot  you 
ever  see,  and  one  in  partic'lar  was  mean  as  a  coy 
ote.  He  laid  all  his  bad  luck  to  the  Injuns;  fact 
was,  they  had  relieved  him  of  several  hosses,  and 
failed  to  return  'em  or  pay  for  'em.  So  one  night 
he  was  a  little  full,  the  boys  twitted  him,  and  he 
took  a  solemn  oath  that  he'd  shoot  the  fust  Injun 
he  saw.  Some  of  'em  thought  he  was  gassin',  but 
I  knowed  he  wasn't,  'cause  I  knowed  he  was  a 
sandy  cuss,  and  I  was  afeared  he  mought  do  what 
he  threatened.  So,  after  he  was  sober,  I  talked  to 
him,  but  it  didn't  do  no  good.  He  said  he  had 
sworn  to  shoot  the  fust  Injun  he  saw,  and  he  was 
goin'  to  do  it.  I  told  him  that  if  he  did  the  whole 
outfit  would  be  ransacked  and  all  of  us  lose  our  head 
gear,  but  he  said  he'd  do  it.  "Well,  two  days  arter- 
wards  we  was  camped  by  a  little  creek, — it  hadn't 
any  name  then,  but  it's  called  Raw-Hide  Creek. 
It  was  about  three  miles  from  the  Platte,  right 
above  the  North  Bend.  We  had  packed  up,  and 
some  of  the  boys  said  that  Pete — that  was  his  name 
— had  gone  huntin'.  Pretty  soon  one  of  the  men 


208  MANULITO. 

come  runnin'  in  and  said,  <  Pete's  kept  his  oath ; 
he's  shot  an  Injun.'  Now  I  knew  we  were  in  for 
it.  We  started  right  off,  but  that  afternoon  a  cloud 
of  dust  was  seen  west  of  us,  and  then  it  seemed  as 
if  the  plains  was  alive  with  Injuns.  Ahead  of  them 
all,  and  in  command,  was  the  Lone  Chief,  ridin' 
that  black  hoss.  I  knowed  the  jig  was  up,  and 
I  told  the  boys  so.  They  had  sense  enough  to  see 
it,  so  we  stopped  and  waited.  Jerusalem  !  I've 
seed  many  an  Injun  on  a  hoss,  but  such  a  fine- 
lookin'  fellow  and  such  a  noble  hoss  I  never  seed 
before  nor  sense.  The  Lone  Chief  rode  up  in  war 
paint,  feathers,  gewgaws,  etc.,  and  said  in  jest  as 
good  English  as  I'm  usin'  now,  '  I  would  speak 
with  your  commander.'  Well !  It  almost  knocked 
me  silly  to  hear  an  Injun  talk  that  way;  but  I 
stepped  out,  and  he  said, — 

"  '  We  seek  the  man  who  shot  one  of  our  squaws 
at  the  creek  this  mornin',  and  this  train  must  turn 
back'ards  and  go  with  us.' 

"  That  settled  it ;  but  I  made  up  my  mind  to  tell 
the  whole  story,  and  to  put  the  blame  where  it  be 
longed.  We  started  on  the  back  trail,  and  while  I 
was  ridin'  alongside  this  warrior,  he  said, — 

"  « A  lyin'  tongue  will  bring  its  owner  to  grief. 
Many  lives  will  be  spared  should  the  Pawnees 
know  who  fired  that  shot.  If  the  murderer  is  not 
discovered,  the  innercent  '11  have  to  suffer  with  the 
guilty.' 

"  I  was  in  a  box ;  didn't  know  what  to  say.     At 


THE  MESSENGER.  209 

last  they  stopped  at  this  same  creek, — the  identical 
spot  where  the  squaw  was  shot, — and  this  warrior 
rode  out,  and  said, — 

"  <  Who  was  the  man  that  fired  that  shot  ?" 

"  ISTo  one  spoke.  Then  he  axed  the  question 
ag'in,  but  didn't  get  no  reply.  The  Injuns  were 
gettin'  oneasy,  and  it  was  all  their  chief  could  do 
to  keep  them  from  sailin'  into  us.  Then  he  said, 
for  the  third  time, — 

"  '  Who  was  the  man  that  fired  that  shot  ?' 

"  I  knowed  the  game  was  up  now.  We  couldn't 
fight,  for  they  had  disarmed  us  at  the  start.  The 
boys  shut  their  teeth  and  breathed  hard.  Jest  then 
Pete  stepped  out,  and  said, — 

"  <  I  am  the  man !' 

"  The  Lone  Chief  said,  *  You've  saved  the  lives 
of  your  friends,  but  you  must  answer  for  your 
crime  accordin'  as  my  warriors  desire.' 

"  Now,  Pete  was  no  coward,  and  he  said, — 

" '  There's  no  use  my  lyin'  about  it.  I  said 
I'd  shoot  the  fust  Injun  I  saw,  and  I  kept  my 
word.' 

" '  But,'  said  the  Lone  Chief,  '  she  never  did  you 
no  harm.  She  went  to  the  creek  to  get  some  water, 
and  you  shot  her  down  jest  like  you  would  a  wild 
beast.  You  didn't  give  her  no  chance  to  defend 
herself,  and  when  her  little  pappoose  come  to  its 
mother  it  found  her — dead  !  What  reason  can  you 
give  for  this  ?' 

"  Pete  saw  now  what  he'd  done,  and  hung  his 
o  18* 


210  MANULITO. 

head  without  speakin'.  Then  he  looked  up,  and  he 
said,  '  I've  nothin'  to  say.' 

"  '  'Tis  well !'  exclaimed  the  chief. 

"  Then  they  held  a  confab.  I  saw  what  was 
comin',  but  didn't  know  in  jest  what  shape.  Two 
warriors  sunk  a  stake,  about  six  feet  high,  right  at 
the  spot  where  the  woman  was  killed.  Then  they 
took  a  lot  of  rawhides,  and  when  everything  was 
ready,  the  Lone  Chief  rode  up  near  the  stake,  and 
this  is  what  he  said, — 

"  '  Few  men  have  suffered  more  than  Manulito 
at  the  hands  of  the  white  men,  but  to-day  he  for 
gets  his  bad  feelin's  towards  them,  and  only  lets 
his  warriors  punish  the  guilty.  If  my  braves  had 
their  way,  all  of  you  would  now  be  dead.  Nobody 
but  the  guilty  shall  suffer,  but  you,  his  friends,  must 
see  us  punish  him.  He  took  the  life  of  an  inner- 
cent  person,  and  his  own  life  must  pay  for  it. 
When  you  get  back  to  the  settlements  and  speak 
of  this  day,  you  can  say  that  one  Indian  was  merci 
ful  towards  the  innercent,  and  saved  you  from  bein' 
put  to  death  by  his  warriors.' 

"  When  he'd  finished  this  here  speech,  he  made 
a  motion  to  his  warriors,  and  four  of  'em  grabbed 
Pete,  stripped  him  to  the  waist,  and  tied  him  to  the 
stake.  Then  a  big,  strong  buck  come  up  with  a 
whip  made  with  a  short  handle  and  four  rawhide 
thongs,  each  one  braided  separately.  When  he  was 
tired  of  whippin',  another  took  his  turn,  and  so 
on.  But,  Squire,  I  ain't  chicken-hearted  or  mealy- 


THE  MESSENGER.  211 

mouthed,  but  Fm  not  goin'  to  tell  more.  It  makes 
me  sick  to  think  of  it,  and  I  ain't  any  tender-foot, 
either.  How  long  it  lasted  the  Lord  only  knows. 
But  Pete's  crime  was  punished,  sure  enough,  and  he 
died  right  on  the  spot  whar',  a  few  hours  before,  he 
had  committed  murder.  It  was  awful !  But,  Squire, 
hard  as  it  was,  we  all  had  to  admit  it  was  a  squar' 
deal. 

"  You  kin  bet  your  sweet  life  I  wasn't  in  any 
shape  for  visitin',  but  this  chief,  Manulito,  took 
me  one  side,  and  I'm  willin'  to  admit  that  that 
Injun  knowed  more  than  any  one  I  ever  met. 
"When  he  found  I  was  goin'  to  the  States,  he 
pumped  me  to  find  out  whar'  I  was  goin'.  I  told 
him  it  didn't  make  any  diff'rence  to  me.  Then  he 
asked  me  if  he  hadn't  done  me  a  good  turn.  I 
told  him  if  we  had  been  playin'  cahoots  and  he 
held  four  aces,  he  couldn't  have  done  himself 
prouder.  He  asked  me  if  I  would  do  him  a  favor. 
4  Well,  I  should  say  yes  !'  says  I.  'Then  he  drew  a 
map,  directin'  me  how  to  reach  you,  and  after  he 
had  explained  things  so  I  couldn't  miss  the  trail, 
he  got  kinder  confidential-like,  and  told  me  all 
about  you  all,  how  kind  you  had  been  to  him,  and 
how  he  loved  you.  "When  he  spoke  of  love  I  come 
mighty  nigh  snortin',  'cause  it  struck  me  so  quar 
for  an  Injun  to  love  anybody.  But  he  soon  satisfied 
me  he  did  love  you  all,  and  I  found,  on  talkin'  to 
him,  that  while  he  was  the  smartest  and  bravest 
warrior  of  them  all,  he  had  a  heart  as  soft  as  a 


212  MANULITO. 

woman's.  He  told  me  to  go  to  you,  to  tell  you, 
Squire,  that  he  had  forgotten  nothin' ;  that  night 
arter  night  he  dreams  of  you,  and  when  he  is  suc 
cessful  in  a  hunt  he  wishes  you  was  with  him ;  when 
others  praise  him  and  flatter  him,  he  don't  'predate 
it  nigh  as  much  as  he  would  a  few  words  from  you, 
tellin'  him  you  approved  of  what  he  had  done. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  stranger,  "  he  is  the  wisest 
and  best  Injun  I  ever  run  across,  but  his  heart  is 
right  in  this  house  all  the  time,  and  he  loves  you 
more  than  all  the  rest  of  the  men  in  this  wicked 
world. 

"  To  your  wife,  he  said  to  tell  her  that  the  prom 
ise  that  he  made  the  night  he  left  your  house  he 
had  allus  kept.  He  didn't  mention  what  it  was, 
and  I  was  goin'  to  ask  him,  but  on  second  thoughts 
didn't  consider  it  any  of  my  business,  and  I  hate  a 
pryin'  cuss  anyhow,  so  I  didn't  say  nothin'.  But 
he  kinder  let  the  cat  out  of  the  gunny-sack,  for  he 
said,  '  Tell  her  I  have  kept  my  promise,  and  have 
saved  many  women  and  children,  and  seen  they 
reached  their  homes  safely.' 

"  He  sent  his  love  to  the  boy,  and  said  to  tell  him 
that  he  hoped  he  was  well  and  strong,  and  that  he 
would  not  forget  the  last  advice  he  gave  him,  to 
try  to  be  like  his  father ;  and  he  said  for  him  to  be 
good  and  true,  kind  and  obejient.  Strikes  me  he 
said  suthin'  else,  but  the  hinges  of  my  memory  are 
purty  rusty,  and  I  disremember  what  else  he  said 
to  tell  the  boy. 


THE  MESSENGER.  213 

"  To  this  little  gal  he  said, — say,  Squire,  what 
do  you  think  ?  Well,  I'm  willin'  to  be  lassoed  for 
a  coyote  if  that  Injun's  eyes  didn't  grow  weak  and 
kinder  watery  when  he  spoke  of  the  gal, — he  said 
to  tell  her  that  he  never  saw  purty  flowers  in  the 
mountains  or  on  the  plains  without  thinkin'  of  her ; 
and  when  he  rested  at  the  aidge  of  some  stream 
he  often  picked  flowers,  and  he  loved  those  best 
that  were  like  those  she  used  to  find.  I  never  seed 
a  full-grown  man  think  so  much  of  a  child  as  he 
does  of  this  little  gal.  I  listened,  and  he  talked  for 
hours, — all  about  you-uns,  and  it  struck  me  that  he 
was  a  romantic  cuss  if  he  was  an  Injun." 

"  But  tell  us,"  said  Wellington,  "  did  he  say  he 
was  coming  back  ?" 

"  No,  he  didn't,  and  I  don't  think  he  intends  to. 
He  seems  to  be  mighty  happy, — that  is,  for  an 
Injun ;  it  don't  take  much  to  satisfy  them.  He's 
free  to  do  as  he  pleases,  hunts  buffalo  and  antelope, 
goes  to  war  most  of  the  time  with  neighborin' 
tribes,  and  is  a  heap  big  Injun  generally.  What 
more  could  he  want  ?" 

"  You  expect  to  return  again,  and  when  you  do, 
tell  him  for  us "  interrupted  Wellington. 

"  E"ow,  look  here,  Squire ;  don't  give  me  any 
message,  'cause  it  won't  be  delivered  in  that  blasted 
country,  for  I'm  a  coyote  if  I  ever  go  there  again. 
There's  nothin'  out  there  I  want.  The  Injuns 
don't  owe  me  nothin',  and  I  ruther  think  they 
have  some  old  scores  to  settle  with  me.  My  head- 


214  MANULITO. 

gear  is  a  heap  more  becomin'  to  my  style  of  beauty 
than  a  wig,  and  I  don't  intend  my  scalp  shall  dangle 
in  a  wigwam  if  the  court  knows  himself,  and  I 
think  he  does." 

Wellington  smiled,  and  remarked,  "Well,  Mr. 
Martin,  you  have  surely  seen  much  of  the  world, 
and  your  experience  has  been  varied." 

"  Seen  much  of  the  world  ?"  queried  he.  "  Well, 
I  should  smile.  And  as  for  experience,  Squire,  I 
couldn't  have  had  more  at  a  camp-meetin'.  I'm 
not  one  to  force  myself  on  any  community,  neither 
am  I  so  awfully  modest  that  I  can't  make  my  wants 
known.  Indeed,  Squire,  modesty  don't  worry  me, 
and  I  ain't  afeerd  to  ask  for  what  I  want  if  I  don't 
see  it.  I  believe  in  the  old  sayin',  i  If  you  don't 
see  what  you  wants,  call  for  it.'  Doin'  this  has 
given  me  many  a  squar'  meal.  I've  had  many  a 
tussle  in  my  lifetime;  have  slayed  grizzlies  and 
mountain-lions,  but  when  I  tackled  John  Barley 
corn,  I  was  knocked  silly  the  first  round.  And 
when  a  man  gets  peart,  as  we  all  do  at  times,  John 
Barleycorn  is  the  fellow  that  will  show  him  up. 
Yes,  Squire,  when  a  man  thinks  he  can  get  the 
best  of  whiskey  he  is  goin'  to  get  beat,  dead  sure. 
He  may  be  strong  physikerly  and  bright  mentally, 
but  whiskey  will  floor  him  quicker  nor  two  jiffs  of 
a  lamb's  tail.  I've  been  there,  Squire,  and  know 
what  I'm  talkin'  about.  I  once  got  to  drinkin' 
powerful  hard,  and  the  more  I  drank  the  sassier  I 
got,  until  I  felt  as  if  I  had  a  contract  to  drink  all 


THE  MESSENGER.  215 

the  licker  in  town.  Well,  I  didn't  drink  it  up,  but 
I  got  awfully  peart,  and  the  fust  thing  I  knew  I 
was  in  the  jug,  sentenced  to  thirty  days'  services  in 
studyin'  geology." 

"  Geology  ?"  inquired  Wellington. 

"Yes,  geology!  You  see,  the  city  authorities 
had  a  stone-pile,  and  us  bummers,  what  was  sen 
tenced  to  break  them  stones  for  use  on  the  streets, 
was  called  <  geology  students.'  Well,  I  graduated 
in  thirty  days.  Then  I  tumbled  to  myself,  and 
made  up  my  mind  I  would  brace  up  and  be  some 
body.  You  see,  I  was  allus  handy  at  anything,  and 
one  day  as  I  stood  on  the  levee  at  St.  Louis,  a  man 
walked  up,  and  said  he  to  me,  '  Can  you  tell  me 
whar'  I  can  employ  a  second  cook  for  this  steam 
boat?'  'Well,'  I  said,  kind  of  independent-like, 
'  Can  I?  I  should  say  I  could!'  At  this,  I  stuck 
my  thumbs  in  my  vest  and  looked  at  him,  while  I 
rolled  my  eyes  and  said,  '  When  you  hires  me,  you 
gets  a  horseshoe,  for  I'll  bring  you  good  luck.  I'm 
the  seventh  son  of  a  seventh  daughter,  and  they  was 
all  cooks,  some  pastry-cooks,  while  others  was  jest 
common  every-day  cooks,  and  wasn't  ashamed  to 
wash  dishes  on  a  pinch.'  Well,  I  was  accepted. 
In  less  than  three  months  the  head  cook  died  of 
yaller  fever,  and  I  was  appointed  <  chef.'  Well, 
now,  Squire,  talk  about  major-generals,  shoulder- 
straps,  etc.,  they  ain't  nowhar'  compared  to  a  <  chef.' 
Of  course  my  salary  was  raised,  and  I  began  to  feel 
my  importance.  I  gained  fifteen  pounds  in  weight, 


216  MANULITO. 

I  waxed  my  moustache  to  look  Frenchy,  and  when 
any  strangers  was  round,  I  looked  fierce,  and  rattled 
off  some  jargon  what  I  picked  up  in  Canada.  Gee- 
whiz  !  but  I  was  important.  They  all  saluted  me, 
from  the  capt'n  down,  and  I  was  the  biggest  man 
aboard.  Naturally  I  felt  my  oats.  So  one  day  the 
capt'n  intrudes  on  me  between  meals,  jest  when  I 
was  suppin'  some  old  Madeira  and  eatin'  some 
wafer-crackers, — jest  a  little  lunch  you  know, — and 
the  capt'n  said  to  me,  <  Monsieur,' — I  mought  ex 
plain  right  here  that  that  was  the  way  they  all  had 
to  open  up  a  confab  with  me, — <  Monsieur,'  said 
he,  *  a  very  elegant  lady  desires  a  cup  of  hot  tea.' 
4  What !'  said  I,  '  a  cup  of  tea  between  meals  ? 
You  know,  sir,  that's  against  the  rules  of  my 
kitchen !'  This  riled  the  capt'n,  and  he  said, 
4  Confound  yer  imperdence !  Who's  runnin'  this 
boat,  I'd  like  to  know  ?'  '  Give  it  up,'  said  I. 
4  All  I  knows  is  I'm  chef  of  the  culinary  depart 
ment,  and  I  don't  allow  no  one  to  intrude  on  me.' 
The  capt'n  was  an  old  steamboat  man,  and  of 
course  a  pow'ful  cusser  when  he  got  on  the  war 
path.  Talk  about  Paradise  Lost!  Talk  about 
4  Hell  hath  no  fury  like  a  woman  scorned !'  Para 
dise  or  hell  couldn't  touch  the  capt'n.  I've  heard 
harvest  hands  hold  purty  lively  discussions.  I've 
been  with  raftsmen  on  a  tear.  I've  listened  to  cow 
boys  expressin'  their  opinions  about  Injuns  and 
buckin'  bronchos.  But  never  did  I  hear  any 
human  bein'  swear  like  that  capt'n  did.  I  looked 


THE  MESSENGER.  217 

him  squar'  in  the  face,  tryin'  to  look  him  out,  and 
then  I  give  him  a  biassed  look  over  the  arm  of  the 
chair,  but  it  was  no  go.  As  a  clincher,  I  looked  at 
him  catawampus-like  over  my  right  shoulder,  but 
nixey !  It  wouldn't  phaze  him.  Hoop  la !  but 
didn't  he  rave !  He  damned  all  the  cooks  that 
ever  was  born,  and  all  that  was  to  come.  He  said 
they  was  the  cuss  of  every  capt'n's  life ;  that  he  had 
more  trouble  with  them  than  all  the  rest  of  his 
help  put  together;  that  they  allus  wanted  big 
wages,  done  as  they  pleased,  and  quit  without 
notice. 

"  You  see,  I  got  ruther  tired  of  the  capt'n 
talkin'  so,  and  I  jest  lassoed  him  with  the  re 
mark, — 

"  '  Capt'n,  you've  got  a  big  trip,  and  a  bluff  don't 
go.  You're  at  least  two  days  away  from  another 
cook,  with  a  hungry  lot  of  passengers.  You've 
abused  me  pussonally, — that  I  don't  care  so  much 
about,' — then  I  took  on  an  offended  look,  and  made 
my  voice  tremble  as  if  I  was  greatly  affected,  and 
said,  '  Capt'n,  the  language  to  me  I  can  forgive  and 
forget,  but  the  insult  to  my  perfession — never! 
Now,  if  you  don't  apologize,  I  get  off  at  the  next 
landin',  and  there'll  be  a  mutiny  aboard,  'cause  the 
passengers  ain't  got  nothin'  to  eat.' 

"  The  capt'n  saw  he  had  kicked  over  the  whiffle- 
trees  while  he  was  still  hitched  to  the  tugs,  and 
he  knew  I  had  him  on  the  hip.  About  this  time  I 
rang  for  the  second  cook,  and  while  the  capt'n 

K  19 


218  MANULITO. 

squirmed  and  tried  to  get  out  of  it,  I  made  him 
apologize  for  what  he  said.  I  knew  he  was  in 
wardly  cussin'  me,  but  he  had  to  come  down  off 
his  perch  or  have  them  all  howlin'  for  grub,  so  he 
come.  Arter  he  went  out,  I  turned  to  the  second 
cook,  and  I  said,  'Young  man,  become  a  chef! 
Then  the  world  bows  to  you.' ' 

"  But,"  laughingly  interrupted  Wellington,  "  I 
should  have  thought  the  captain  would  have 
planned  some  revenge  for  this." 

"  Don't  worry  about  the  capt'n.  He  had  it  in 
for  me  all  right.  He  was  awfully  pleasant  for  days, 
and  one  day  he  sneaked  in  a  new  cook  without 
notice,  and  watched  his  chance  for  me.  The  pas 
sengers  knew  of  the  jamboree  the  capt'n  had  with 
me,  and  sympathized  with  him.  So  one  day,  jest 
at  dusk,  they  landed  at  an  island.  Two  roust 
abouts  grabbed  me,  and  while  they  led  me  off 
turkey  fashion,  the  band  played  the  '  Dead  March.' 
The  crowd  cheered  and  jeered.  They  said  I  should 
still  be  l  chef,'  and  not  only  chef  but  king,  and  I 
was  fired  without  a  mouthful  of  grub.  I  lived  on 
that  confounded  island  for  ten  days,  eatin'  nothin' 
but  blackberries  and  turtle-eggs.  The  Lord  only 
knows  how  long  I  would  have  stayed  there  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  a  stray  log  that  floated  nigh,  which 
I  grabbed  and  straddled,  and  then  paddled  to  the 
main  shore,  bein'  in  terror  every  minute  for  fear 
a  '  'gaitor'  would  grab  me  and  pull  me  under." 

"  But,"  said  Wellington,  "  I  should  have  thought 


THE  MESSENGER.  219 

that  passing  steamers  would  have  seen  you  and 
have  come  to  your  relief." 

"  Relief  nothin' !  They  did  all  see  me,  but  they 
knowed  it  all,  and  every  one  whistled  for  alandin', 
then  gave  me  the  passin'  signal  jest  to  devil  me. 

"  Still,"  continued  he,  with  a  self-satisfied  smile, 
"  I  still  live,  and  my  steamboat  experience  helped 
me  to  another  job.  I  drifted  around  from  place 
to  place,  workin'  at  my  trade, — doin'  nothin', — until 
one  night  I  ran  slap-bang  up  against  a  meetin'-house. 
They  was  holdin'  revival  meetin's,  and  as  I  stuck 
my  head  in,  the  pastor,  a  white-haired  old  man, 
said,  l  Now  let  every  one  join  in  singin'  this  famee- 
liar  hymn.'  Then  they  struck  up  *  Rock  of  Ages, 
cleft  for  me.'  Now,  while  I  don't  look  it,  I'm 
somewhat  on  the  sing,  and  tenor  is  my  long  suit. 
So  I  j'ined  in  the  song,  and  then  I  sang  another 
and  another.  The  next  night  I  felt  my  shanks 
propellin'  me  towards  that  church  as  if  the  safety- 
valve  was  closed  with  one  hundred  and  eighty 
poun's  of  steam,  when  I  only  had  license  for  one 
hundred  and  fifty.  Well,  to  make  a  long  story 
short,  I  got  religion,  and  got  it  bad.  I  never  was 
very  back'ard  on  the  talk,  and  my  gift  of  gab  helped 
that  good  old  man  to  convert  many  a  tough  sinner. 
It  done  me  a  heap  of  good,  too,  and  I  wish  I'd  stuck 
to  it.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  he,  in  a  serious 
tone,  "  it's  the  only  real  satisfyin'  thing  there  is  in 
this  world.  Arter  I  had  got  several  doses  of  it,  I 
kinder  felt  like  savin'  the  world  and  startin'  out  as 


220  MANUL1TO. 

an  evangelist ;  but  my  fust  experiunce  discouraged 
me,  for  I  got  a  position  as  mate  on  the  steamer 
i  Grand  Republic.'  Now,  thinks  I  to  myself,  here's 
a  chance  to  do  some  missionary  work  among  a 
tough  set.  Jest  my  luck !  I  started  on  the  wrong 
trail,  and  preached  to  them  about  the  beauties  of 
heaven  instead  of  the  horrors  of  hell.  I  got  one 
nearly  converted ;  he  was  a  tough  cuss, — never 
wore  a  coat,  and  you  could  all  us  see  his  bare  feet 
through  his  old  shoes.  I  pictered  to  him,  as  best  I 
could,  heaven,  angels,  and  everything  good.  *  "Will 
I  be  an  angel  ?'  said  he,  t  and  hev  wings,  and  'soei- 
ate  with  decent  people  ?'  '  Of  course/  said  I,  *  if 
you  repent  and  are  saved.'  *  Never  expected  any 
thing  so  rich,'  said  he.  '  Wouldn't  feel  at  home. 
But  if  you  can  fix  it  to  let  me  in  on  the  ground-floor 
whar'  I  kin  hev  a  chance  to  work  my  way  up, 
don't  mind  thinkin'  it  over.  But  I  don't  want 
to  disgrace  no  one  in  this  world  or  the  one  to 
come.' 

"  I  argued  with  him,  but  he  got  away.  I  gave 
chase  and  let  out  full  sail, — even  let  out  the  jib, — 
but  couldn't  overhaul  him.  Then  I  preached  hon 
esty  to  the  roosters  under  me,  spoke  kindly  to 
them,  and  thought  I'd  elevate  them,  but  I  found 
the  only  true  and  ke'rect  way  to  elevate  them  was 
with  my  boot,  for  they  stole  my  watch  and  money 
while  I  was  prayin'  for  their  souls.  Unless  they  are 
swore  at  and  punched  occasionally  with  a  pitchfork 
handle,  they  think  they're  neglected,  and  won't 


THE  MESSENGER.  221 

work.  ]N"othin'  like  a  man  havin'  the  rations  he's 
used  to,  Squire.  Ain't  that  so  ?" 

Wellington  bowed  assent,  and  laughed  aloud  at 
the  stranger's  logic,  but  to  Mrs.  Wellington  he  was 
an  enigma.  The  stories  of  his  strange  life  were  to 
her  a  fascinating  but  distasteful  revelation,  and  her 
refined  nature  rebelled  at  the  coarseness  of  his  lan 
guage.  She  felt  in  constant  terror  lest  he  should 
say  something  to  shock  the  children,  who  listened 
with  bated  breath  to  the  story  of  his  life.  To  them 
it  was  a  tale  weird  and  wild,  an  exposition  of  things 
of  which  they  now  heard  for  the  first  time.  They 
listened  with  childish  eagerness  to  the  story,  but 
were  frequently  puzzled  to  catch  the  meaning  of 
many  of  the  strange  words  and  idioms  used  by  this 
unexpected  guest. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  funny  world,"  continued  he,  "  and 
the  people  like  to  be  swindled.  Allus  cravin' 
suthin'  new,  allus  wantin'  suthin*  for  nothin'.  But 
that's  what  makes  life  easy  for  us.  I  made  two  thou 
sand  dollars  one  summer  as  easy's  fallin'  off  a  log, 
jest  by  bamboozling  greenies.  You  see,  I  had  let 
my  hair  grow  long,  wore  buckskin  clothes,  claws 
for  a  necklace,  kept  my  face  stained,  and  passed  for 
an  Injun  doctor  who  spoke  pretty  good  English. 
Then  I  travelled  with  an  Injun  attendant.  We 
cured — at  least  pretended  to  cure — all  kinds  of  dis 
eases  with  my  wonderful  medical  discovery.  To 
show  it  wuzn't  dangerous,  I  used  to  taste  it  often, 
I  sold  a  heap  of  it  that  summer,  but  an  old  Dutch- 

19* 


222  MANUL1TO. 

man  got  too  inquisitive^  and  a  chemist  told  him 
this  wonderful  medicine,  put  up  in  four-ounce  bot 
tles,  consisted  of  four  ounces  aqua  pura,  a  little 
extract  of  smart-weed,  a  few  drops  of  ile  of  sassa 
fras,  with  enough  aniline  red  to  color  slightly. 
You  can  imagine  the  profit  in  it.  But  then,"  said 
he,  looking  wise  and  elevating  his  eyebrows,  "  ex 
penses  were  heavy,  and  us  perfessional  men  allus 
should  be  paid  well  for  our  services.  My  money 
soon  went,  and  the  next  thing  I  was  travellin'  with 
a  side-show,  wrestlin'  with  a  cinnamon  bear.  But 
one  day  the  bear  got  mad,  and  put  his  arms  around 
me  so  tight  that  two  of  my  ribs  was  broke.  I 

then But  here,  it's  gettin'  bedtime  for  these 

chicks.  I  hurried  somewhat  in  my  story,  and  once 
or  twice  let  out  a  reef  to  make  better  speed,  and 
now  I'm  through,  think  I'll  get  a  move  on  myself, 
as  I'm  gettin'  nigh  the  home-stretch." 

"You  will  stay  with  us  to-night!"  exclaimed 
"Wellington. 

"What?    Where?" 

"  Why,  here  in  this  house,  of  course !" 

At  this  the  guest  laughed  as  if  some  great  joke 
had  been  perpetrated,  and  said, — 

"  Why,  Lord  bless  you,  Squire,  I  hain't  slept  in 
a  decent  man's  house  for  years.  Can't  sleep  in 
doors,  anyhow.  I  feel  oppressed-like,  and  when  I 
wake,  unless  I  sniff  the  fresh  air,  I'm  choked  for 
breath.  I'm  jest  as  much  obleeged,  but  with  your 
consent — and  if  you  don't  give  it,  I'll  do  it  anyhow 


FROM  VILLAGE   TO   CITY.  223 

— I'll  jest  crawl  alongside  the  straw-stack  near  the 
barn.  I  ain't  afeared  of  bein'  robbed,  and  if  any 
one  tackles  me,  their  friends  are  apt  to  ask  'em 
whose  mule  they've  been  foolin'  with." 

As  they  reached  the  door,  "Wellington  thanked 
him  for  his  visit,  and  again  offered  his  hospitality, 
but  the  stranger  declined,  and  bade  them  good 
night. 

Early  the  next  morning,  as  soon  as  they  were 
astir,  Wellington  hastened  to  find  his  strange  guest 
and  interview  him  again,  but  his  search  was  una 
vailing,  for  he  found  that  the  wanderer  had  disap 
peared. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FROM   VILLAGE   TO   CITY. 

"  His  tongue 

Dropt  manna,  and  could  make  the  worse  appear 
The  better  reason,  to  perplex  and  dash 
Matured  counsels." 

MILTON. 

As  the  days  passed  after  this  strange  visitor  had 
called,  there  steadily  crept  over  Wellington  a  feeling 
of  discontent,  for  he  knew  that  the  field  for  the  ex 
ercise  of  his  talents  was  circumscribed,  and  he  often 
likened  himself  to  a  caged  animal  which  longed  for 


224  MANUL1TO. 

perfect  freedom.  But  the  tender  ties  of  home  and 
the  pleasant  associations  with  the  honest  people  with 
whom  he  had  lived  so  long,  the  affectionate  interest 
they  had  in  himself  and  family,  the  pride  they  felt 
in  his  success,  the  admiration  they  always  expressed 
for  his  abilities, — all  these  things  made  him  hesitate 
to  take  his  wife  and  children  from  these  devoted 
friends  and  place  them  in  a  city  where  they  would 
miss  the  flowers,  the  hills  and  meadows,  and  the 
sweet  accustomed  scenes  of  village  life.  He  felt, 
however,  that  he  had  already  remained  longer  than 
was  wise,  and  now  that  he  was  offered  the  position 
of  solicitor  for  an  influential  corporation,  he  saw 
that  his  opportunity  had  come,  and  he  decided  to 
improve  it. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  arrange  his  departure, 
for  clients  were  not  unselfish,  and  begged  him  not 
to  leave  the  village  and  allow  the  trial  of  their  cases 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  other  lawyer.  They 
had  engaged  Wellington,  and  him  they  insisted  on 
having.  He  exercised  all  his  ingenuity  to  rush  to 
trial  all  cases  in  which  he  was  retained,  but  his  op 
ponents  advanced  the  numerous  excuses  always  at 
the  command  of  ingenious  lawyers  who  desire  a 
continuance,  so  that  many  trials  were  deferred  from 
term  to  term,  until  a  year  had  passed  before  Wel 
lington  could  take  his  final  departure. 

The  night  before  they  were  to  leave,  after  kind 
neighbors  had  made  their  final  calls,  the  deep,  soft 
tones  of  the  old  family  clock  rung  out  the  mid- 


FROM  VILLAGE  TO   CITY.  225 

night  hour,  and  the  full  moon  shed  her  softest  light 
over  the  sleeping  earth,  Wellington  and  wife, 
whose  hearts  were  too  full  for  sleep,  wandered  out 
into  the  night,  and  stopped  at  the  garden  gate. 

"  How  beautiful  the  night !"  said  he.  "  Such 
nights  as  these  recall  so  many  pleasant  memories, 
nights  of  peaceful  life,  of  love  and  hope,  for  on 
such  a  night  as  this  I  first  met  my  love,  and  as  the 
moon  made  more  beautiful  her  loving  glances,  and 
darkened  her  brown  eyes  into  softest  tenderness, 
and  her  raven  hair  shimmered  in  its  bright  light,  I 
knew  I  loved,  and  years  have  only  served  to  make  it 
more  holy  and  sacred,  and  I  feel  that  God  has  dealt 
most  kindly  in  giving  me  such  a  jewel  as  my  arms 
contain.  You  have  not  forgotten  that  night?" 
said  he. 

"  Forgotten  it !"  she  replied,  reproachfully. 
"Forgotten  it!"  And  her  moistened  eyes  chas 
tised  him  in  their  look  of  reproach.  "  There  is  a 
time  in  a  woman's  life  that  she  will  never  forget, 
that  is  the  time  when  the  man  she  loves  confesses 
his  love  to  her.  Her  innate  modesty  has  long 
fought  the  fight  of  maidenly  concealment,  for  she 
strives  hard  to  choke  down  alovethaf  is  devouring 
her,  lest  the  one  she  loves  does  not  reciprocate; 
and  when,  that  night,  you  plead  your  love  to  me, 
the  world  was  my  heaven,  for  I  loved  and  learned 
that  I  was  loved  in  return.  The  moon,  the  stars, 
the  silent  night,  were  witnesses  to  our  mutual 
pledges  of  affection.  I  thought  I  loved  you  then, 
p 


226  MANULITO. 

"Will,  but  that  love  was  nothing  compared  to  what 
I  now  have  after  years  of  marital  life." 

Her  looks  corroborated  her  thoughts ;  his  right 
arm  drew  her  closer  to  him  as  he  continued, — 

"  As  we  stand  here  to-night,  it  seems  but  days 
instead  of  years  since,  from  this  same  spot,  we 
waved  a  last  good-by  to  him  whom  we  loved  so 
much,  our  absent  Manulito.  I  know  his  thoughts 
so  well,  and  on  such  nights  as  these,  when  the 
heated  day  has  given  way  to  dew-laden  evening, 
when  the  cool  breezes  float  softly  through  the  trees, 
and  the  moon  has  arisen  and  her  mellow  glow 
softens  and  beautifies  the  earth,  it  sometimes  seems 
to  me,  as  it  did  to  Manulito,  that  these  nights  are 
the  connecting  links  between  earth  and  heaven,  and 
I  know  that  on  such  nights  our  absent  friend  will 
think  of  us,  and  ask  the  Great  Spirit  to  watch  over 
and  protect  us." 

"  Do  you  know,"  continued  he,  "  I  would  give 
almost  anything  I  have  to  see  him  again.  Yes, 
would  give  anything  but  you  and  the  children. 
I  have  often  wondered  if  we  will  ever  meet  again. 
It  seems  so  strange  that  we  should  have  loved  one 
another  so  much.  Scarcely  a  night  passes  that  I 
do  not  dream  of  him,  and  the  dreams  are  so  real 
istically  true ;  we  hunt  together,  fish  together,  but 
oftener  sit  side  by  side  in  the  forest,  holding  long 
conversations  on  subjects  of  mutual  interest;  then 
I  see  the  loving  glances  of  his  great  dark  eyes,  feel 
the  warm  pressure  of  his  firm  hand,  and  then  I 


FROM  VILLAGE   TO   CITY.  227 

awaken,  as  if  he  were  in  my  room,  but  find  it  all  a 
dream.  And  yet  I  love  such  dreams.  I  am  not 
superstitious,  believe  in  neither  the  good  or  evil 
effects  arising  from  a  dream,  but  it  is  a  sweet  satis 
faction  to  be  with  him  either  in  this  life  or  in  the 
life  I  lead  in  dreamland.  We  shall  hear  from  him 
again.  I  feel  assured  of  that.  The  tide  of  emi 
gration  is  fast  drifting  towards  the  unsettled  West, 
and  some  day  we  shall  hear  more  of  him.  I  read 
your  thoughts  all  through  the  wandering  story  of 
Martin,  and  shared  your  satisfaction  when  we 
learned  that  Manulito  was  true  to  the  teachings  he 
received  at  our  hands.  His  savage  heart  has  been 
converted  until  it  possesses  the  nobility,  the  gentle 
ness,  the  purity  of  that  of  a  woman.  Manulito 
won't  preach  Christianity  to  the  Indians,  but  he 
will,  by  his  life  and  conduct,  set  an  example  for 
them  that  is  bound  to  be  for  their  good." 

At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  one. 

"  Come,  come  I"  said  he.  "  This  won't  do  !  We 
must  play  the  lovers  some  other  moonlight  night." 

And  then,  with  his  strong  arm  around  her,  an 
appreciated  but  unnecessary  support,  this  couple, 
whose  love  only  increased  with  advancing  years, 
returned  to  the  house. 

The  next  morning  they  were  early  astir,  and  the 
little  caravan  which  was  to  transport  such  of  their 
worldly  goods  as  were  to  be  taken  was  being  pre 
pared  for  the  journey.  The  neighbors  bade  them 
farewell  with  moistened  eyes  and  sad  hearts.  But 


228  MANULITO. 

no  one  was  sadder  than  Wellington  and  his  wife, 
who  strove  hard  to  keep  smiles  on  their  faces, 
though  all  knew  they  were  but  veils  to  hide  the 
actual  feelings  they  strove  to  conceal. 

After  a  journey  of  a  week  their  destination  was 
reached,  and  the  truth  of  the  saying  that  ability 
does  not  long  go  begging  was  soon  proved,  for  one 
day,  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  the  city,  as  Welling 
ton  sat  within  the  bar  in  the  Criminal  Court  when 
the  docket  was  being  called,  he  saw  in  the  criminal 
dock  a  young  man  who  seemed  deeply  cast  down 
and  apparently  friendless.  When  his  name  was 
called  to  answer  to  the  charge  in  the  indictment,  he 
raised  his  head,  and  in  answer  to  the  interrogatory, 
"  Guilty  or  not  guilty  ?"  he  replied,  "  Not  guilty." 

"  Have  you  counsel?"  asked  the  court. 

To  which  he  replied,  "  I  am  a  stranger,  friendless 
and  penniless,  charged  with  the  crime  of  murder. 
I  have, no  counsel,  and  I  have  no  means  to  procure 
any." 

At  this  Wellington  arose,  and  said, — 

"  If  the  court  please,  I  would  like  to  defend  the 
young  man.  I  have  never  practised  at  this  bar,  but 
am  not  entirely  unknown  to  your  honor,  and  if  I 
am  permitted  to  defend  the  prisoner,  I  will  do  so 
to  the  best  of  my  ability  and  without  compensation." 

"  Do  you  accept  the  gentleman  as  your  counsel  ?" 
asked  the  court,  and  the  prisoner  nodded  assent. 

Thus  was  Wellington  to  try  his  first  case  at  his 
new  home.  When  the  day  for  trial  came  there  was 


FROM  VILLAGE   TO   CITY.  229 

an  intense  interest  manifested,  for  a  cold-blooded 
murder  had  been  perpetrated,  and  the  supposed 
murderer  was  now  to  be  tried.  He  had  not  been 
caught  in  the  commission  of  the  crime,  but  circum 
stantial  evidence  pointed  to  him  as  the  guilty  one. 

The  court-room  was  filled  with  interested  parties, 
while  curiosity,  which  is  such  a  strong  element  in 
the  average  human  mind,  brought  many  more.  It 
was  regretted  by  court-frequenters  that  in  such  an 
important  case  some  criminal  celebrity  had  not  been 
selected  to  defend  instead  of  the  beardless  lawyer, 
whose  personal  appearance  was  decidedly  boyish. 
The  prosecuting  attorney  was  bombastic  and  ego 
tistical,  elected  to  office  by  reason  of  the  political 
majority  of  his  party,  and  not  because  of  his  legal 
ability.  He  had,  as  he  supposed,  estimated  the 
ability  of  his  opponent,  and  had  invited  many  of 
his  personal  friends  to  be  present  and  see  him  make 
"  a  guy"  of  the  lawyer  from  the  backwoods. 

During  the  impanelling  of  the  jury  Wellington 
gained  many  friends  by  his  cool,  shrewd,  and  gen 
tlemanly  questions,  and  he  had  not  proceeded  far 
before  the  court  saw  that  this  young  man,  so  boy 
ish  in  appearance,  was  an  astute,  experienced,  and 
brilliant  lawyer,  capable  not  only  of  protecting  his 
client's  interest,  but  of  taking  most  excellent  care 
of  himself. 

In  his  opening  address  the  prosecuting  attorney 
put  the  case  for  the  State,  and  fiercely  denounced 
the  prisoner  as  the  guilty  one,  and  called  for  the 

20 


230  MANULITO. 

fullest  penalty  of  the  law  to  be  inflicted.  Then,  in 
sneering,  caustic  tones,  he  referred  to  the  opposing 
counsel  as  one  who  had  tired  of  bucolic  life,  tired 
of  trying  cases  in  country  school-houses  before  illit 
erate  justices  of  the  peace,  and  had  come  to  the 
city  to  learn  the  ways  of  civilized  people.  He 
promised  him  protection,  at  the  same  time  he 
hoped  that  his  country  friend,  who  had  left  the 
farm  to  practise  law,  would  not  take  to  heart  any 
rough  sayings  or  cutting  suggestions,  for  the  earlier 
he  received  a  proper  initiation  the  sooner  he  would 
be  able,  if  ever,  to  cope  with  those  of  greater  learn 
ing  and  experience.  At  this  the  court  called  him 
to  order,  saying  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  re 
marks  of  that  kind.  But  Wellington  raised  his 
hand  deprecatingly,  and  said, — 

"  No,  no,  your  honor ;  don't  stop  him.  Let  the 
gentleman  proceed.  I  am  young,  and  have  much 
to  learn." 

At  this  he  again  folded  his  arms,  a  cynical  smile 
played  around  his  mouth,  and  his  blue  eyes  turned 
to  a  dangerous  gray,  while  he  calmly  listened. 
When  the  prosecuting  attorney  had  finished  his 
harangue,  and  called  repeatedly  for  the  punishment 
of  the  crime,  demanding  the  greatest  penalty  that 
could  be  inflicted  by  the  law,  he  took  his  seat,  and 
condescendingly  said, — 

"  Now,  young  man,  it's  your  turn." 

Wellington  arose  and  stepped  towards  the  jury. 
As  he  did,  his  handsome  physique  and  personal 


FROM  VILLAGE  TO   CITY.  231 

appearance,  the  winsomeness  of  his  manner,  and 
his  gentlemanly  carriage,  won  for  him  the  sympa 
thy  and  respect  of  all.  As  his  lips  parted  and  the 
words  fell  from  them  with  mellow  regularity,  with 
delicate  shade  of  feeling,  with  perfect  modulation, 
and  each  syllable  with  rare  distinctness,  judge  and 
jury  at  once  recognized  that  before  them  stood  a 
matchless  orator.  He  had  formed  the  habit  of 
fondling  his  watch-chain  at  his  vest  and  twining  it 
occasionally  around  his  finger  when  opening  an 
argument,  and  this  he  did  as  he  said, — 

"  May  it  please  the  court  and  gentlemen  of  the 
jury  :  No  man  ever  recognized  more  fully  the  im 
portance  of  his  responsibility  than  do  I  this  day  as 
I  stand  before  you  pleading  the  cause  of  an  inno 
cent  man.  I  have  not  undertaken  the  defence  of 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar  from  any  mercenary  motive. 
He  is  a  stranger  to  me,  but  when  I  sat  here  a  few 
days  ago  and  saw  the  sad  look  on  his  face, — that 
hopeless  expression  which  is  so  often  seen  on  the 
faces  of  those  who  are  despondent  because  of  some 
great  trouble, — and  when  I  learned  he  was  a  stran 
ger,  without  money,  without  friends,  arrested,  in 
dicted,  and  to  be  tried  for  the  commission  of  the 
greatest  crime  known  to  the  law,  the  obligations 
taken  by  me  when  I  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  the 
resolutions  I  formed  years  ago  to  at  all  times  help 
the  poor  and  friendless,  came  back  to  me  with  re 
newed  force  and  strength,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  am 
here  with  health  and  a  knowledge  of  the  law  to 


232  MANULITO. 

protect  this  young  man,  to  see  that  he  has  that  fair 
trial  which  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States 
guarantees  to  every  human  "being." 

He  then  spoke  of  the  enormity  of  the  crime, 
and  said  that  he  desired  the  punishment  of  the 
guilty  one,  but  denied  that  his  client  was  that  one. 
He  said  that  the  evidence  would  disclose  their  de 
fence,  and  that  the  examination  of  the  State's  wit 
nesses  would  prove  the  innocence  of  his  client,  as 
there  were  facts  within  his  knowledge  that  pre 
cluded  the  possibility  of  the  prisoner  being  the 
murderer.  At  this  the  prosecuting  attorney  smiled 
incredulously,  but  "Wellington  continued, — 

"  I  shall  ask  you,  gentlemen,  to  give  your  atten 
tion  throughout  this  case  as  you  would  have  others 
were  your  own  son  on  trial  for  a  heinous  crime. 
Any  man  may,  by  force  of  suspicious  circumstances, 
be  placed  in  the  same  position  as  this  young  man. 
It  is  no  evidence  of  guilt,  for  the  law  expressly 
says  that  '  every  man  shall  be  presumed  innocent 
until  his  guilt  is  proven,'  and  if,  bound  as  you  are 
by  the  sanctity  of  the  oath  you  have  taken  as  jurors, 
your  honest  hearts  satisfy  you  that,  there  is  a  reason 
able  doubt  as  to  the  guilt  of  the  accused,  then  the 
court  will  charge  you  to  give  the  defendant  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt,  and  he  must  be  acquitted. 
But  I  will  not  take  your  further  time.  'Tis  true, 
as  my  friend  says,  I  am  from  the  country ;  and  if 
that  is  a  crime, — to  have  come  from  a  spot  where 
the  winds  from  heaven  breathe  sweet  incense  into 


FROM  VILLAGE   TO   CITY.  233 

the  blossoming  flowers  ;  where  honest  men  till  the 
soil,  and  greet  strangers  with  courtesy  and  good 
will;  where  a  stranger  is  welcomed  with  unself 
ish  generosity,  civility,  and  gentlemanly  conduct; 
where,  perhaps,  inelegant  expressions  drop  from 
the  tongues  of  men  who  never  had  the  advantages 
of  schools,  and  yet  whose  tongues  have  never  uttered 
a  falsehood,  whose  homespun  suits  enclose  hearts 
the  noblest  God  ever  permitted  to  beat, — if  to  have 
lived  amid  such  surroundings  and  to  have  associ 
ated  with  such  men  as  these  is  a  crime,  then,  gen 
tlemen  of  the  jury,  I  stand  before  you  guilty. 

"  As  a  child  I  loved  stories.  What  child  does 
not  ?  And  when  my  friend  made  his  unprovoked 
attack  upon  me,  which  called  forth  a  reprimand 
from  the  court,  I  heeded  it  not,  for  men  are  but 
children  grown,  and  his  remarks  brought  back  to 
me  the  fable  of  JEsop,  which  relates  how  the  ass 
paraded  in  the  lion's  skin.  He  succeeded  in  fright 
ening  all  who  saw  him  until  his  conceit  asserted 
itself, — he  spoke,  and  the  illusion  was  dispelled,  for 
all  found  that  the  supposed  lion  was  but  a  braying 
ass,  and  fear  and  respect  were  changed  to  unmiti 
gated  contempt. 

"  I  apologize  to  your  honor,  and  to  you,  gentle 
men  of  the  jury,  for  this  comparison;  it  would  have 
been  more  elegant,  more  refined,  perhaps  more  pal 
atable  to  the  taste  of  my  aesthetic  friend,  if  I  had 
used  language  not  so  indelicate ;  but  to  him  who 
criticised  me  wilfully,  deliberately,  and  without  the 

20* 


234  MANULITO. 

slightest  provocation,  I  have  simply  returned  an  eye 
for  an  eye.  Perhaps  I  should  have  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  his  insulting  words,  for  when  a  man  so  far 
forgets  himself  as  to  make  slurring  remarks  about 
a  stranger,  nothing  that  the  brain  can  conceive  or 
the  tongue  utter  will  bring  that  man  to  a  realization 
of  what  true  and  professional  courtesy  is.  I  will 
drop  the  matter,  simply  telling  my  friend  that  when 
again  he  seeks  to  please  the  spectators  by  allowing 
himself  to  insult  a  gentleman,  he  should  hesitate, 
lest  that  gentleman  greet  him  with  this  quotation 
from  Pope : 

'  Immodest  words  admit  of  no  defence, 
For  want  of  decency  shows  want  of  sense.'  " 

This  was  too  much  for  judge,  jury,  and  those 
present,  and  everybody  burst  into  a  roar  of  laugh 
ter,  after  which  the  trial  was  conducted  with  gen 
tlemanly  courtesy. 

The  evidence  showed  a  brutal  murder ;  an  old 
man  had  been  beaten  to  death  between  the  hours 
of  ten  and  twelve  at  night.  The  prisoner  had  been 
seen  near  the  house,  and  was  arrested  as  he  was 
leaving  the  neighborhood.  A  blunt  weapon  had 
been  used,  and  after  the  commission  of  the  crime 
the  murderer  had  evidently  run  against  the  wall, 
for  there  was  a  complete  impression  of  a  blood 
stained  right  hand.  It  was  clearly  outlined, — the 
palm,  the  thumb,  and  the  four  fingers.  During  the 
trial  the  prisoner  sat  with  a  glove  on  his  right 


FROM  VILLAGE   TO   CITY.  235 

hand.  Many  thought  it  curious,  and  the  State 
made  a  strong  point  of  this,  denouncing  the  mur 
derer,  and  daring  him  to  uncover  his  guilty  hand, 
for  the  prosecuting  attorney  insisted  that  the  im 
print  on  the  wall  was  made  by  the  man  who  com 
mitted  the  deed.  At  this  the  prisoner's  eyes  bright 
ened,  but  Wellington  reserved  an  outward  calm,  for 
this  assertion  he  knew  would  acquit  his  client. 

As  the  State  concluded  their  evidence,  "Welling 
ton  arose,  and  said, — 

"  Let  the  defendant  remove  his  glove  and  be 
sworn." 

The  prisoner  rose  and  held  his  right  hand  aloft. 
As  he  did,  a  murmur  ran  through  the  court-room, 
visibly  affecting  the  jury,  for  two  fingers  of  the  right 
hand  were  gone,  the  wound  had  long  since  healed, 
and  it  was  evident  that  the  prisoner  could  not  have 
committed  the  murder.  Wellington  saw  the  effect, 
and  said, — 

"  I  have  no  questions  to  ask  the  witness." 

The  case  was  argued  by  the  State,  but  when 
Wellington  had  concluded  the  defence,  his  un 
answerable  logic,  his  brilliant  comparisons,  carried 
all  with  him,  and  after  the  immediate  acquittal  of 
the  defendant,  both  judge  and  jury  complimented 
him  on  the  able  manner  in  which  he  had  con 
ducted  the  case.  This  trial  at  once  gave  him  a 
local  reputation,  and,  as  far  as  the  gaining  of  clients 
was  concerned,  the  battle  was  won. 


236  MANULITO. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE   GLADIATORS. 

"  No  thought  of  flight, 
None  of  retreat,  no  unbecoming  deed 
That  argued  fear ;  each  on  himself  relied 
As  only  in  his  arm  the  moment  lay 
Of  victory." 

MILTON. 

IT  was  now  one  year  since  Wellington  reached 
the  city.  The  courts  were  to  have  their  vacation  in 
July  and  August,  and  he,  representing  a  powerful 
syndicate  of  capitalists,  had  promised  to  go  to  the 
far  West  to  investigate  its  mineral  resources,  and 
to  purchase  a  large  amount  of  wild  but  fertile  land. 

At  that  season  of  the  year,  when  business  is  at 
its  ebb  in  cities,  many  were  desirous  of  joining  the 
party,  both  from  a  love  of  adventure  and  a  wish  to 
get  away  from  the  activity  of  city  life.  A  party  of 
twenty  was  formed,  and  early  in  July,  with  health 
and  abundant  wealth  to  back  them,  they  started,  a 
joyous  crowd  of  happy  young  men,  to  visit  for  the 
first  time  the  great  plains  of  the  West  of  which 
they  had  heard  so  much. 

They  reached  the  Missouri  River  on  the  10th  of 
July,  and  at  once  started,  under  the  guidance  of  an 
old  plainsman,  across  the  beautiful  but  apparently 
endless  prairies.  The  dreams  of  years  were  soon  to 


THE  GLADIATORS.  237 

be  realized,  and  they  were  already  planning  to  hunt 
the  antelope  and  the  buffalo.  When  a  few  days 
out,  the  prairie-dogs,  those  odd  little  inhabitants 
of  the  plains,  yelped  and  barked  in  astonishment 
and  affright  at  them.  Soon  they  killed  large  num 
bers  of  antelope,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth 
day  an  immense  herd  of  buffalo  was  reported. 
This  was  the  event  for  which  they  had  been  so 
anxious,  and  rapidly  making  their  preparations  for 
the  hunt,  they  advanced,  under  the  instruction  of 
the  guide  and  scout,  to  a  little  elevation,  from  which 
they  looked  down  upon  thousands  of  buffalo  peace 
fully  grazing  in  the  valley.  The  scout  had  previ 
ously  warned  them  not  to  be  carried  away  by  the 
excitement  of  the  chase  and  become  separated,  but 
to  hunt  in  pairs,  lest  some  accident  happen.  He 
also  warned  them  not  to  go  far  from  camp,  for 
while  the  Pawnees  were  friendly,  the  Sioux  often 
swooped  down  from  the  north,  or  the  Comanches 
came  from  the  south,  and  both  of  these  tribes  were 
at  this  time  on  decidedly  unfriendly  terms  with  the 
whites. 

"Wellington's  heart  beat  with  rapturous  pleasure, 
for  he  was  once  again  on  the  open  prairie  and  amid 
the  scenes  he  loved  so  well.  Cool  as  he  was,  he 
could  hardly  curb  his  feelings,  but  longed  to  test 
the  speed  and  skill  of  the  spirited  broncho  on  which 
he  was  mounted.  The  little  party  moved  quietly 
forward,  then  the  horses  broke  into  a  smart  trot, 
which  soon  became  a  furious  gallop,  and  amid  the 


238  MANULITO. 

yells  of  their  pursuers  and  the  rapid  firing  of  guns, 
the  great  black  mass  of  moving  life  thundered 
away,  and  as  their  hoofs  beat  the  hard  earth,  the 
noise  and  confusion  was  terrific ;  the  herd  was  soon 
broken,  and,  despite  the  warning  of  the  scout,  the 
pursuers  became  scattered. 

Wellington  had  killed  several  of  the  animals, 
and,  finally,  his  pony,  wild  with  excitement,  rushed 
along  by  the  side  of  a  huge  beast,  so  close  that  he 
could  fire  only  occasionally,  and  thus  they  went  for 
miles.  At  last  the  buffalo  received  a  shot  which 
was  fatal ;  it  bellowed,  the  blood  ran  from  its  nos 
trils,  it  reeled,  then  pitched  forward  on  its  knees, 
rolled  its  sad  eyes  with  pitiful  glances,  and  fell  over 
on  its  side — dead. 

Wellington  dismounted  without  taking  time  to 
reload  his  gun.  He  brushed  his  hair  back,  drank 
in  the  refreshing  prairie  breeze,  and  revelled  in  this 
opportunity  of  enjoying  his  long-pent-up  desire. 
His  pony  raised  its  head  and  neighed,  and  as  Wel 
lington  looked  up,  his  blood  ran  cold,  for  from 
every  direction  Indians  were  rushing  down  upon 
him.  He  mounted  quickly,  and  looked  for  some 
point  of  escape,  but  in  vain,  for  scores  of  Indians 
with  levelled  spears  were  fast  closing  in  on  him. 
He  pointed  his  empty  gun  at  the  one  nearest  to  him, 
but  at  this  the  rider  dropped  from  view,  only  his 
foot  appearing  over  his  pony,  while  beneath  his 
horse's  neck  his  dark  face  leered  with  devilish  fe 
rocity.  On  they  came,  and  one,  more  daring  than 


THE  GLADIATORS.  239 

the  others,  sprang  towards  Wellington  and  tried  to 
snatch  him  from  his  horse.  But  he  grabbed  the 
Indian's  spear,  and,  wrenching  it  from  him,  knocked 
him  from  his  seat;  then,  breaking  through  their 
ranks,  he  spurred  his  pony  and  fled  for  his  life. 
But  the  race  could  not  last  long,  his  horse  was  tired, 
and  only  kept  its  pace  frightened  by  the  hundreds 
of  yelling  demons  behind  him.  As  one  reached 
out  to  grab  the  fugitive,  Wellington  swung  his 
captured  spear  with  skilful  celerity,  and  with  a 
howl  of  pain  his  pursuer  dropped  from  his  horse. 

They  were  now  intent  on  making  him  captive, 
and  seeing  this,  he  checked  his  horse,  and  before 
they  realized  his  intent  he  charged  one  of  them, 
and  the  impetuosity  of  the  charge  sent  the  Indian 
and  his  pony  rolling  over  in  a  heap.  They  now 
yelled  more  horribly  than  before,  and  closed  in  on 
him  in  a  surging  mass ;  but  his  terrible  spear  still 
unhorsed  them.  Then,  driving  his  spurs  into  his 
pony,  the  animal  screamed  with  terror,  and,  bound 
ing  forward,  Wellington,  ponies,  and  Indians  were 
crowded  together  in  a  struggling  mass.  He  fought 
with  desperation,  and  seemed  possessed  of  super 
human  strength.  The  surging  horde  pounced  on 
him,  but  were  thrust  aside  like  children.  The 
unequal  contest  soon  ended,  however ;  his  arms 
were  seized  from  behind,  he  was  bent  down  by 
superior  numbers,  and  when  he  was  permitted  to 
arise,  it  was  with  pinioned  arms,  for  he  was  a 
captive  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians. 


240  MANULITO. 

The  sun  had  gone  to  rest,  and  twilight  was  fast 
coming  on,  when  all  was  ready  for  a  start.  "Welling 
ton,  as  yet,  had  not  heard  an  intelligible  word.  All 
to  him  was  a  monotonous  jargon.  He  knew  not  to 
what  tribe  his  captors  belonged,  and  he  was  utterly 
ignorant  of  their  intentions  towards  him.  When 
they  were  ready  to  go,  he  was  lifted  upon  a  pony, 
an  Indian  mounted  behind  him,  and  then  in  single 
file  the  cavalcade  started  in  a  southwesterly  direc 
tion.  Despite  his  condition  and  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  prisoner  without  any  probability  of  immediate  res 
cue,  he  did  not  give  way  to  despondency,  but  nerved 
himself  to  make  the  best  of  his  situation  and  to 
attempt  to  escape  at  the  first  opportunity.  A  reso 
lution  of  this  kind  was  easily  made,  and  under  the 
circumstances  was  a  natural  one,  but  his  captors 
appreciated  their  prize  too  highly  to  give  him  any 
chance  of  obtaining  his  liberty. 

After  a  few  hours'  travel  they  were  joined  by 
another  band,  equally  as  large,  and  from  their 
painted  faces  and  the  trimmings  of  their  ponies 
"Wellington  inferred  that  they  were  not  only  on  a 
buftalo-hunt,  but  were  also  on  the  war-path.  After 
three  days  and  nights  of  almost  constant  travel 
they  reached  an  Indian  village,  where  they  were 
welcomed  by  men,  women,  and  children  with  noisy 
demonstrations  of  joy,  while  dogs  of  all  ages,  sizes, 
and  descriptions  howled  their  approval. 

Up  to  this  time  Wellington  had  not  heard  one 
word  in  his  own  tongue,  and  was  therefore  pleas- 


THE  GLADIATORS.  241 

antly  surprised  when  an  Indian  approached  and 
in  broken  English  informed  him  that  he  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  Comanches.  It  was  not  encour 
aging,  so  far  as  the  realization  of  his  situation  was 
concerned,  but  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  feel  that  at 
least  one  person  in  the  ferocious  and  motley  crowd 
could  partially  understand  a  Christian  language. 

As  was  the  custom  with  all  Indians  after  the 
return  of  a  party  from  a  successful  hunt,  their  joy 
must  find  escape  by  ceremonies  peculiar  to  their 
tribe,  expressive  of  gratitude  and  devotion  to  the 
Great  Spirit  who  had  led  them  to  find  game  in  such 
great  plenty.  They  therefore  decided  that  on  the 
second  day  after  their  arrival  they  would  partici 
pate  in  their  Buffalo-Dance,  since  other  parties 
which  were  out  would  have  returned  by  that  time. 

"Wellington  was  advised  of  this  decision,  and  was 
also  told  that  the  tribe  considered  him  a  great  war 
rior,  that  he  had  shown  his  skill  in  fighting,  and 
that  during  the  day  of  the  Buffalo-Dance  his  bra 
very  would  again  be  tested.  He  tried  to  discover 
their  intentions  regarding  him,  but  all  his  appeals 
were  in  vain,  for  his  interpreter  had  the  faculty  of 
failing  to  comprehend  when  he  did  not  wish  to 
enlighten  the  captive.  Wellington  told  him  that 
he  had  never  harmed  one  of  them,  and  had  always 
entertained  the  kindest  sentiments  towards  them. 
To  which  his  listener  responded,  "Now?"  inti 
mating  that  the  captive  found  it  advisable  to  have 
kindly  feelings  just  at  that  time,  then  burst  into  a 

L  Q  21 


242  MANULITO. 

laugh,  and  walked  away,  saying,  "  Pale-faces  great 
liars." 

On  the  following  day  Wellington  was  permitted 
the  freedom  of  the  village,  although  he  was  under 
the  constant  guard  of  two  braves,  who  walked  at 
his  side.  He  thought  this  a  concession  on  their 
part,  but  he  little  imagined  that  this  exercise  was 
not  to  please  him,  but  to  keep  his  limbs  and  muscles 
supple,  that  he  might  afford  them  the  greater  sport 
at  the  proper  time.  At  night  he  was  firmly  bound 
and  securely  guarded.  During  the  day  he  saw  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Indians  in  their  preparations  for 
the  fete  of  the  next  day.  Every  little  ornament  of 
copper,  brass,  and  tin  was  subjected  to  the  bright 
est  polishing;  beads  and  ribbons  were  selected  and 
assorted  to  make  the  greatest  combination  of 
striking  effects ;  ponies  were  groomed,  painted, 
their  manes  and  tails  plaited  and  adorned  with  rib 
bons  and  feathers  of  hawks  and  eagles,  and  each 
brave  tried  to  outdo  his  neighbor  in  painting  his 
face  and  breast. 

At  night  a  council  of  the  chiefs  and  warriors  of 
the  tribe  was  called.  An  accurate  account  was 
given  of  their  hunt,  the  enemies  they  had  killed, 
and  the  narrator  dwelt  with  especial  earnestness 
on  the  capture  of  Wellington,  his  skill,  and  the 
great  strength  of  which  he  was  possessed.  This 
was  the  most  pleasant  music  to  their  ears,  for  the 
Comanches  were  brave,  delighted  in  anything 
striking  or  mysterious,  and  now  that  they  had  a 


THE   GLADIATORS.  243 

fearless  man  in  their  power,  they  foresaw  that  his 
tortures  would  add  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  day. 
They  intended  that  he  should  die,  and  they  were 
now  to  determine  the  manner  of  his  death.  Ordi 
nary  torture  was  considered  beneath  the  dignity  of 
a  warrior  of  his  standing,  and  as  they  recognized 
in  Wellington  almost  the  perfection  of  bravery  and 
of  physical  strength,  they  resolved  that  before  he 
met  his  death  hio  skill  and  fortitude  should  be  tested. 
They  therefore  decided  that,  according  to  the  code 
of  their  tribe,  he  should  fight  a  warrior  selected 
by  lot,  and  if  the  prisoner  was  the  victor,  which  he 
could  be  only  by  killing  his  adversary,  then  he 
should  be  set  free.  This  proposition  was  hailed 
with  enthusiasm,  and  every  one  present  hoped  that 
he  might  be  the  one  chosen  to  represent  his  tribe. 

As  this  decision  was  reached,  another  party,  which 
had  just  returned  from  a  hunt,  entered  the  council. 
They  were  all  painted  and  bedaubed,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  one  tall  Indian,  who  strode  in  with  dig 
nity  and  seated  himself  near  their  chief,  showing 
that  he  was  recognized  as  one  of  their  head  men. 
The  story  of  the  capture  of  the  pale-face  was  re 
lated  to  the  new  arrivals,  who  heartily  concurred  in 
the  decision  of  the  council.  The  braves  then  ap 
proached  the  chief,  who  held  a  bag  containing  as 
many  wolf's  teeth  as  there  were  warriors  present, 
and  each  man  thrust  his  hand  into  the  ba^,  and. 

o" 

taking  one  of  the  teeth,  held  it  in  his  closed  palm. 
Then  the  chief,  Running  Water,  arose  and  said, — 


244  MANULITO. 

"  When  the  sun  is  at  its  height  to-morrow  one 
of  my  braves  will  fight  the  stranger  for  his  life. 
The  pale-faces  are  the  enemies  of  the  Comanches ; 
they  try  to  rob  us  of  our  lands  and  our  ponies,  and 
they  kill  our  people.  The  pale-face  that  the  Co 
manches  have  captured  is  strong  and  brave  and 
cunning.  He  will  fight  for  his  freedom,  for  his 
life,  for  it  has  been  decreed  that  if  he  survives  he 
shall  be  set  free  and  returned  to  his  people.  Then 
let  the  warrior  on  whom  this  honor  falls  ask  the 
Great  Spirit  for  strength  and  skill,  so  that  when 
the  sun  sinks  to  rest  at  night  our  tribe  will  rejoice 
because  its  honor  has  been  protected,  and  because 
at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  after  the  battle  has  been 
fought,  one  less  pale-face  will  curse  the  earth  by 
his  presence." 

This  speech  was  received  with  nods  and  vigorous 
grunts  of  approval.  Continuing,  the  chief  said, — 

"  In  each  warrior's  hand  there  lies  a  tooth  of  the 
wolf,  whitened  by  the  suns  of  many  moons ;  but 
in  one  hand  there  lies  a  tooth  stained  by  the  damp 
and  darkness  of  ages.  Unfold  your  hands,  and  to 
him  who  holds  the  darkened  tooth,  to  him  falls  the 
honor  of  representing  our  tribe  in  the  coming 
battle." 

At  this  all  hands  were  opened,  and  many  flung 
their  white  ballots  to  the  earth  in  disgust  when 
they  found  that  they  had  lost.  But  when  the  war 
rior  who  had  lately  entered,  and  was  seated  near 
Chief  Running  Water,  opened  his  hand,  there  was 


THE   GLADIATORS.  245 

exposed  the  stained  and  darkened  tooth,  and  there 
fore,  by  the  decision  of  the  council,  he  was  to  be 
the  champion  of  their  tribe  on  the  morrow.  It 
was  further  decided  that  the  combat  should  be  on 
horseback  and  with  spears.  A  Comanche  Indian 
was  more  at  home  on  his  horse  than  afoot,  and  the 
height  of  his  ambition  was  to  display  his  agility 
and  skill  in  the  carrying  out  of  some  startling  or 
presumably  impossible  feat  of  horsemanship.  They 
owned  not  undersized  bronchos,  but  horses  of  full 
growth  and  stature,  combining  the  qualities  of  speed 
and  endurance.  These  animals  were  trained  to  obey 
the  will  of  their  masters  almost  without  command, 
and  they  always  considered  that  when  mounted  they 
at  once  had  an  enemy  at  a  disadvantage. 

The  Indians  rode  bareback,  with  a  lasso  or  strip 
of  buffalo-hide  fastened  to  the  under  jaw  of  the 
animal.  Still,  this  was  more  ornamental  than  use 
ful,  for  they  guided  their  horses  by  a  pressure  of 
the  knees  or  by  a  swaying  of  the  body,  the  rein 
lying  loosely  over  the  animal's  neck.  Therefore, 
when  a  Comanche  was  mounted  on  his  favorite 
horse,  he  was  ready  to  bid  defiance  to  the  world. 

"Wellington  had  spent  years  in  the  saddle,  both 
as  a  boy  and  after  his  maturity,  and  he  had  yet  to 
see  the  horse  he  could  not  bring  into  subjection 
He  was  an  athlete,  and  to  him  it  mattered  not  what 
arms  he  wielded;  all  he  asked  was  that  he  be 
placed  on  an  equality  with  his  opponent.  When, 
therefore,  it  was  announced  to  Wellington  that  he 


246  MANULITO. 

was  to  fight  for  his  freedom,  fight  on  horseback 
with  spear  and  shield,  he  inwardly  breathed  a 
prayer  of  thankfulness  because  of  his  early  training 
and  the  study  he  had  made  of  heraldic  encounters. 
When  a  youth,  his  paragons  of  perfection,  his 
ideals  of  knighthood,  were  Ivanhoe  and  Richard 
Coeur  de  Lion.  He  knew  by  heart  the  history  of 
the  Crusades,  the  march  of  knighted  men,  their 
bravery,  their  sacrifices  for  the  cause  of  Chris 
tianity;  and  often,  when  deeply  engaged  in  the 
perusal  of  incidents  in  which  armed  knights  ad 
vanced  among  the  ranks  of  infidels  and  battled  for 
the  cause  of  Christianity,  he  longed  for  such  an 
opportunity,  and  could  not  restrain  his  disappoint 
ment  because  he  had  not  lived  at  such  a  time.  And 
now,  to  find  among  wild,  untutored  men  the  same 
ideas  of  personal  encounter  which  had  existed  for 
ages,  but  of  which  they  could  not  possibly  know, 
seemed  to  prove  that  people  are  controlled  by  the 
ideas  of  men  of  whose  very  existence  they  are 
ignorant. 

Wellington's  surprise  was  still  greater  when  he 
learned  that  he  and  his  antagonist  were  to  fight 
with  their  features  masked.  This  mask  was  made 
of  the  softest  and  most  flexible  skin,  covering  the 
head  and  face,  with  apertures  for  the  eyes  and 
mouth,  while  the  crest  was  adorned  with  eagle's 
feathers ;  the  face  was  painted  with  black  bars,  and 
the  head  was  decorated  with  stars  and  crescents  in 
yellow  and  red. 


THE   GLADIATORS.  247 

During  the  greater  part  of  the  night  prepara 
tions  were  being  carried  on  for  the  fete  of  the 
coming  day.  The  chattering  of  the  squaws,  the 
cries  of  restless  children,  and  the  whining  and 
harking  of  dogs  rendered  sleep  almost  an  impossi 
bility.  At  last  the  morning  dawned,  and  with  it  a 
gray  mist  spread  over  the  village,  threatening  a 
lowering  day.  The  wind  howled  dismally,  and  the 
spirits  of  the  inhabitants  were  in  consequence  de 
pressed  ;  but  the  summer  sun  was  too  strong  and 
warm,  and  his  rays  speedily  dispelled  fog  and  mist, 
the  winds  veered  to  the  north,  the  threatening 
storm  disappeared,  and  instead  of  a  rainy  day,  the 
hours  increased  the  promise  of  the  most  delightful 
weather.  As  the  clouds  rolled  away  and  the  mist 
disappeared,  the  Indians  showed  their  joy  in  divers 
ways :  ponies  were  decked  with  gaudy  ribbons ; 
squaws  clothed  themselves  in  petticoats  of  striking 
colors ;  chiefs  were  arrayed  in  their  war-bonnets, 
their  faces  streaked  and  daubed  with  paint,  while 
necklaces  of  the  claws  of  birds  of  prey  and  of  vari 
ous  wild  animals  made  a  rattling  accompaniment 
to  the  jingling  of  beads  and  tiny  bells. 

Wellington  passed  a  night  of  restlessness,  and 
his  broken  slumber  only  increased  his  misery,  for 
while  he  slept  he  dreamed  of  home,  and  his  awak 
ening  intensified  the  suffering  caused  by  his  sur 
roundings.  At  last,  the  Indian  who  acted  as  inter 
preter  came  to  the  tent,  and  Wellington  arrived  at 
a  partial  understanding  of  what  was  expected  to 


248  MANULITO. 

happen.  As  yet  he  had  not  been  advised  of  their 
intentions,  and  had  supposed  that  the  passage  at 
arms  was  to  be  for  the  gratification  of  the  tribe, 
and  that  no  serious  results  would  happen,  unless 
possibly  by  accident.  His  visitor  told  him  that 
each  would  be  armed  with  a  shield  and  a  blunted 
spear,  for  in  that  manner  they  could  show  their 
skill,  agility,  and  horsemanship  without  endanger 
ing  each  other's  life.  Wellington,  as  yet,  had  not 
seen  his  antagonist,  and  when  he  asked  to  have 
him  pointed  out,  he  was  told  that  neither  was  to 
see  the  other  until  they  met  in  the  arena ;  that  his 
adversary  had  not  seen  him,  and  that  when  they 
met,  they  would  be  on  an  equality.  "  And,"  the 
visitor  added,  laconically,  "  the  pale-face  may  never 
see  the  face  of  the  brave  he  fights  with." 

"Very  well,"  rejoined  Wellington;  "if  your 
warrior  is  afraid  or  ashamed  to  fight  except  with 
his  face  concealed,  I  will  not  ask  to  have  it  other 
wise.  It  makes  no  difference  to  me." 

The  hour  of  noon  was  drawing  nigh.  The  scene 
was  a  delightful  one,  for  the  eye  could  see  the  silent 
flowing  river,  the  green  waving  prairie  grass,  in 
the  distance  the  indistinct  mountains  reaching  to 
the  blue  skies,  while  the  teepees  of  the  village 
and  the  constantly-moving  forms  of  the  Indians 
added  picturesqueness  to  the  view.  At  any  other 
time,  if  free  from  the  dreadful  uncertainty  which 
now  oppressed  him,  Wellington  would  have  been 
charmed  with  the  scene ;  but  now  his  anxious  eyes 


THE  GLADIATORS.  249 

watched  every  move,  his  alert  ears  listened  to  every 
sound,  awaiting — he  knew  not  what. 

As  the  shadow  of  a  warrior  indicated  the  hour 
of  noon,  a  cry  went  up,  and  a  circle,  perhaps  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  diameter,  was  formed. 
The  scene  was  full  of  animation  and  color:  first 
the  squaws  encompassing  the  battle-ground;  at 
their  feet  nestled  children  of  all  sizes ;  then  came 
half-grown  boys  and  girls ;  then  old  men,  and  war 
riors  standing,  men  who  were  too  poor  to  own  or 
too  friendless  to  borrow  a  pony;  back  of  them 
hundreds  of  ponies  stood  facing  the  ring,  their 
riders  painted  and  streaked  with  glaring  colors, 
while  above  horses  and  riders  sharp-pointed  spears 
glistened  in  countless  numbers.  It  was  a  wild, 
weird  gathering,  and  such  as  could  be  found  only 
among  savage  tribes. 

As  Wellington  viewed  the  romantic  spectacle 
through  his  soft  and  yielding  mask,  his  horse  was 
led  to  him.  It  was  sleek  with  summer  grazing, 
compactly  built,  with  fire  shining  in  its  dark  eyes, 
while  it  sniffed  and  pranced  as  if  anticipating  the 
contest.  In  truth,  the  horse  was  accustomed  to 
these  mounted  battles,  and,  as  the  interpreter  told 
"Wellington,  should  be  guided  by  the  pressure  of 
the  knees  and  the  swaying  of  the  body,  for  he  was 
thoroughly  trained,  and  could  be  depended  on  for 
guidance  without  the  use  of  the  reins.  The  spear 
which  was  given  him  was  made  of  hickory,  with  a 
blunted  end  covered  with  some  soft  material,  which 


250  MANULITO. 

prevented  any  serious  injury  arising  from  its  com 
ing  into  forcible  contact  with  a  person.  This  spear 
was  used  only  in  mimic  contests,  and  in  practice 
where  injury  was  to  be  avoided. 

The  warrior  who  was  to  contest  with  Wellington 
now  appeared,  splendidly  mounted,  and  wearing  a 
mask  which  was  the  counterpart  of  his  opponent's. 
He  was  naked  to  the  waist,  while  gayly-beaded 
trousers  of  fringed  buckskin  covered  his  limbs. 
In  his  right  hand  he  lightly  held  his  spear,  while 
his  left  arm  was  thrust  into  loops  of  leather,  which 
held  his  shield  firmly  to  his  forearm.  His  shield 
was  oval  in  shape,  studded  in  the  centre  by  a  brass 
head,  while  the  frame  was  covered  with  several 
thicknesses  of  buffalo-hide,  dried  and  toughened, 
making  it  almost  impossible  of  penetration.  The 
surface  was  artistically  painted,  depicting  a  wolf  at 
bay,  while  Wellington's  shield  represented  an  eagle 
swooping  down  on  its  prey,  a  fleeing  bird. 

The  warrior  was  mounted  without  a  saddle,  but 
with  straps  suspended  from  the  surcingle  holding 
stirrups,  by  reason  of  which  he  could  strike  with 
greater  force.  Wellington  was  permitted  the  use 
of  his  saddle. 

When  the  attendants  lifted  their  hands,  signifying 
that  the  contestants  were  ready,  the  chief,  Running 
Water,  advanced,  raised  his  spear,  and  said, — 

"  All  pale-faces  are  not  cowards.  All  do  not  flee 
at  the  howling  of  the  wolves,  the  screech  of  the 
wild-cat,  or  the  war-whoop  of  the  Comanches. 


THE  GLADIATORS.  251 

Such  a  pale-face  we  have  among  us  to-day.  He  is 
brave,  but  has  no  experience  in  our  mode  of  war 
fare.  Our  champion  will  teach  him  how  warriors 

fight." 

This  was  interpreted  to  Wellington,  who  smiled 
in  reply.  As  the  chief  raised  his  spear  as  a  signal 
for  the  struggle  to  begin,  a  wild  yell  arose,  and  the 
brave  who  was  to  do  battle  wheeled  his  horse  and 
went  to  the  farthest  limit  of  the  circle,  in  order  to 
increase  his  speed  and  the  strength  of  his  attack. 
"Wellington's  horse  sprang  forward,  and  they  met 
with  levelled  spears,  but  the  Comanche  swerved, 
and  their  weapons  rattled  harmlessly  on  their 
shields.  This  seemed  to  arouse  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  Indians,  and  they  yelled  with  delight  in  antici 
pation  of  what  was  to  come.  The  Comanche  un 
derestimated  his  opponent's  skill,  for,  when  they 
again  met,  he  aimed  at  Wellington's  face,  and  in 
doing  so  left  a  portion  of  his  body  unprotected. 
.Wellington  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  it,  for 
he  deftly  changed  the  direction  of  his  spear,  and 
before  the  savage  could  move  his  shield  the  blunt 
head  struck  him  in  the  side,  almost  unseating  him. 
At  this  the  Indians,  although  completely  surprised, 
raised  a  howl  of  congratulation  in  their  own  dialect. 

The  warrior  w^as  now  on  his  mettle,  and,  at  the 
next  advance,  both  horses  came  at  fullest  speed, 
and  the  spears  struck  each  opposing  shield  in  the 
centre  with  such  force  that  the  riders  almost  fell 
backward  from  their  horses. 


252  MANULITO. 

"Wellington  now  urged  his  spirited  steed  to  its 
best,  intending  to  unseat  his  antagonist,  but  his 
spear  passed  harmlessly  over  the  horse,  for  the 
Indian  had  slipped  over  its  back,  and  was  looking 
at  his  rival  from  beneath  the  animal's  neck.  This 
exhibition  of  horsemanship  by  one  of  their  tribe 
gratified  the  Indians  beyond  expression,  and  the 
braves  showed  their  delight  by  jumping  up  and 
down,  howling,  and  kicking  their  dogs  into  a 
yelping  chorus. 

At  the  next  charge,  Wellington  aimed  low,  not 
intending  that  his  adversary  should  play  the  same 
trick  again,  but  in  doing  so  he  left  himself  a  trifle 
exposed,  which  resulted  in  a  bruising  graze  on  his 
side,  while  his  own  spear  clattered  against  his 
adversary's  shield. 

The  chief  now  raised  his  spear  as  a  signal  for  a 
cessation  of  the  hostilities.  Honors  were  even,  and 
both  men  and  horses  needed  rest,  for  their  attacks 
had  been  frequent  and  spirited.  They  were  both 
congratulated  on  their  skill,  while  their  horses, 
breathing  fast  from  their  running  and  flecked  with 
foam,  were  watered  and  vigorously  rubbed  down. 

And  now,  for  the  first  time,  Wellington  learned 
the  intention  of  his  captors,  for  Running  Water 
made  a  speech  reciting  the  treachery  of  the  whites, 
their  attempts  to  deprive  the  Indians  of  their  lands, 
their  broken  treaties,  and  reminding  his  men  that 
each  tribe  had  determined  to  put  a  stop  for  all 
time  to  come  to  the  advances  of  the  whites  in 


THE  GLADIATORS.  253 

their  territory,  and  that,  in  order  to  do  this  most 
effectually,  every  white  man  who  came  into  their 
power  must  die.  But  of  Wellington,  on  account 
of  his  bravery,  they  would  make  an  exception,  and 
would  give  him  his  liberty  on  condition  that  he 
was  victorious  in  a  life  and  death  contest  with  his 
adversary. 

"When  Wellington  heard  this,  he  tried  in  every 
way  to  alter  their  determination,  for  he  did  not 
wish  to  gain  his  liberty  in  this  way.  But  when  he 
learned  that  if  he  refused  he  would  be  turned  over 
to  the  squaws,  he  inwardly  prayed  for  success,  and 
determined  that  if  his  liberty  must  be  gained  as 
they  said,  he  would  win,  or  die  fighting  for  his 
freedom. 

The  antagonists  were  then  handed  spears  with 
points  of  sharpened  steel,  while  around  their  waists 
belts  were  placed,  in  which  were  thrust  long  hunt 
ing-knives  with  stag-horn  handles,  wrapped  with 
small  thongs  of  the  sinews  of  the  deer  to  keep 
them  from  slipping  in  their  hands. 

As  the  determined  men  took  their  places,  each 
was  again  told  that  it  must  be  a  battle  to  the  death. 
Wellington  was  reminded  that  he  was  to  fight  for 
his  liberty.  While  the  Indian  was  admonished  of 
the  honor  of  his  tribe,  which  he  would  either  sus 
tain  or  suffer  to  pale  beneath  the  banner  of  disgrace. 
The  signal  for  the  battle  was  given,  but  the  first 
contest  had  served  to  enlighten  the  combatants 
concerning  each  other's  skill,  and  each  guarded 

22 


254  MANULITO. 

against  the  agility  and  the  cunning  of  his  foe. 
The  horses  appeared  to  know  that  the  contest  was 
one  of  life  and  death,  for  their  dilated  eyes,  their 
quick  movements,  seemed  to  indicate  their  desire 
for  the  success  of  their  riders. 

While,  in  the  preliminary  battle,  the  onlookers 
chatted  and  were  at  times  inattentive,  there  now 
reigned  the  stillness  of  night,  as  each  one  looked 
on  with  closed  lips  and  bated  breath,  for  they  knew 
that  with  those  wicked  spears  the  battle  would  be 
of  short  duration.  The  horses  wheeled  and  circled, 
dashed  forward  at  lightning  speed,  then,  before  a 
blow  could  be  struck,  suddenly  veered  to  one  side. 
At  last,  they  charged  directly  at  one  another.  The 
Comanches  held  their  breath,  for  they  expected 
the  battle  was  ended.  Not  so  !  for  the  shields  re 
ceived  the  spears  at  a  slight  incline,  and,  instead 
of  piercing  through,  they  glanced  aside,  leaving  a 
long  white  seam  on  each  shield. 

The  Indians  did  not  expect  such  skill  as  this  on 
the  part  of  Wellington,  and  when  they  saw  it,  they 
were  generous  enough  to  acknowledge  it  by  a  yell 
that  could  have  been  heard  for  miles.  All  their 
love  for  strife  and  blood  was  now  aroused.  They 
wanted  the  fight  ended,  and  urged  their  champion 
by  words  and  vigorous  gestures  to  finish  the  battle. 
But  he  recognized  too  well  the  skill  of  his  antago 
nist  to  do  anything  rash.  At  the  next  sally,  just 
as  the  stroke  was  made,  Wellington's  horse  stum 
bled  slightly,  and  the  Indian  made  a  quick  pass 


THE  GLADIATORS.  255 

that  would  have  been  fatal  had  not  Wellington 
thrown  himself  far  to  his  horse's  side.  He  saved 
himself,  hut  the  spear  slightly  cut  his  arm,  tearing 
the  sleeve  from  his  shirt  in  a  great  broad  strip,  and 
exposing  his  white  muscular  arm  with  blood  trick 
ling  from  it.  At  sight  of  this,  pandemonium 
seemed  let  loose,  for  the  air  was  hideous  with  yells 
and  whoops.  But  "Wellington  was  more  deter 
mined  than  ever,  and  rushing  forward  his  horse  at 
its  greatest  speed,  his  spear  grazed  the  Indian's 
side,  from  which  there  sprang  a  great  red  welt,  out 
of  which  the  blood  slowly  oozed. 

Now  the  Indian  sought  revenge,  and  as  they 
met  in  mid-arena,  his  charge  was  so  impetuous 
that  Wellington  swung  far  to  one  side.  As  he  did 
so  his  heart  sank,  for  the  girth  had  severed,  he 
fell  heavily  to  the  ground,  and  his  spear,  which 
was  under  him,  snapped  with  his  weight.  As  the 
Indians  saw  this  they  were  wild  with  delight,  for 
victory  now  rested  with  their  tribe.  Their  as 
tonishment,  however,  was  intense  when  they  saw 
their  champion  leap  from  his  horse,  cast  aside  his 
spear,  draw  his  knife,  and  advance  to  meet  his  foe. 
They  could  scarcely  believe  their  eyes,  and  howled 
their  condemnation,  for  an  Indian  does  not  believe 
in  open  warfare,  and  thought  that  now,  when  their 
champion  had  the  white  man  at  his  spear's  point, 
he  was  needlessly  risking  his  life  in  prolonging 
the  battle.  Wellington  was  as  much  astonished  as 
they  were,  for  he  had  thought  his  time  had  come. 


256  MANUL1TO. 

Seeing  the  Indian  advancing,  he  drew  his  knife, 
and  then  they  who  had  fought  so  long  on  horse 
back  continued  their  battle  on  foot. 

As  they  advanced,  then  circled  or  retreated, 
their  shields  swayed  up  and  down  like  limbs  moved 
by  the  wind,  and  yet  their  movements  were  in 
perfect  rhythm.  They  were  a  pair  of  warriors  fit 
for  any  arena.  Their  deep  breathing  was  plainly 
heard, — a  sudden  crash — the  quick  glittering  of 
knives — and  then,  as  they  sprang  back,  they  ap 
peared  unhurt,  for  their  shields  had  received  the 
blows,  and  their  skill  had  saved  their  lives.  Again 
the  attack  was  made ;  their  left  limbs  were  inter 
twined,  and  through  their  masks  their  eyes  glared 
with  deadly  ferocity,  for  each  was  determined  to 
end  this  equal  contest.  Blow  after  blow  was  given, 
but  the  broad  shields  protected  them.  Down  the 
side  of  one,  down  the  arm  of  the  other,  the  blood 
trickled.  With  a  parting  blow  and  a  strong  back 
ward  push  they  separated.  Such  a  battle  as  this 
the  spectators  had  never  seen  before,  and  the 
Indians  were  now  too  interested  to  yell,  but  ear 
nestly  watched  every  movement  of  the  gladiators. 

As  they  stood  panting  for  breath,  Running 
Water  advanced,  and  said, — 

"  Two  greater  warriors  never  lived !  Remove 
their  masks,  that  when  one  is  struck  in  death  he 
may  go  before  the  Great  Spirit  remembering  the 
face  of  the  warrior  who  sent  him." 

At  this  the  masks  were  removed;   but  as  they 


MANUL1TO.  257 

were,  both  combatants  stepped  back  in  astonish 
ment.  One  exclaimed, — 

"My  God!  It's  Manulito!"  while  the  other 
sprang  into  his  arms  and  said, — 

"  The  Gray  Eagle !  Oh,  my  brother,  we  meet 
again !" 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 

MANULITO. 

"  By  Heaven !  it  is  a  splendid  sight  to  see 

(For  one  who  hath  no  friend,  no  brother  there) 

Their  rival  scarfs  of  mix'd  embroidery, 

Their  various  arms  that  glitter  in  the  air." 

BYRON. 

THE  spectators  were  amazed,  and  cries  of  rage 
and  disappointment  filled  the  air,  but  the  reunited 
pair  heeded  them  not.  Wellington  stood  with  his 
arm  around  Manulito,  the  tears  trickling  down  his 
face,  while  the  Indian  seemed  trying  to  devour  him 
with  his  loving  glances,  and  tenderly  brushed  the 
hair  from  Wellington's  perspiring  forehead,  and 
softly  said,  his  voice  trembling  with  suppressed 
emotion, — 

"  At  last  the  prayers  of  Manulito  are  answered, 
and  the  Great  Spirit  has  permitted  him  to  see  his 
brother  again !" 

r    ^  22* 


258  MANULITO. 

As  is  often  the  case  when  one  becomes  so  inter 
ested  in  some  pleasure  as  to  fail  to  note  the  coming 
of  a  direful  event,  so  in  the  excitement  of  the  mo 
ment  these  two  were  entirely  unconscious  of  the 
rage  and  baffled  desires  of  the  disappointed  Co- 
rnanches.  The  exhibition  of  their  feelings  was 
like  the  approach  of  a  storm ;  murmurs  half  sup 
pressed  reached  the  ear  at  uncertain  intervals,  like 
the  wailing  of  the  winds  through  the  forest,  or  its 
whistling  down  the  canon ;  then  came  deep  mut- 
terings,  like  the  distant  reverberation  of  thunder, 
the  angry  flash  was  seen,  and  then,  when  Welling 
ton  and  Manulito  raised  their  eyes,  they  were 
startled  at  their  situation,  for  they  were  within  a 
circle  of  levelled  and  steel-pointed  spears. 

Astonishment  and  indignation  were  depicted  on 
the  face  of  Manulito. 

"  What  means  all  this  ?"  said  he,  in  the  Indian 
language,  while  his  form  trembled  with  suppressed 
rage. 

"  It  means,"  said  Running  Water,  "  that  the  Black 
Wolf  has  forgotten  the  vows  of  his  adopted  tribe ! 
It  means  that  his  heart  is  changed,  for,  instead  of 
upholding  the  honor  of  his  people  and  defending 
their  rights  against  the  whites,  his  heart  is  softened, 
— he  has  become  a  squaw !  It  means  that  instead 
of  killing  his  enemy,  as  he  agreed  to  do  in  the 
solemn  council,  he  forgets  the  pledge  intrusted  to 
him,  and  like  a  squaw  who  has  been  parted  from 
her  sister  for  a  week,  seeks  his  arms !  It  me'ans 


MANULITO.  259 

that  my  tribe  and  my  warriors  are  disgraced !  Your 
battle  was  to  be  to  the  death,  and  to  the  death  it 
shall  be,  not  with  the  white  man,  but  with  my 
braves !" 

"  He  is  a  coward !"  exclaimed  a  voice. 

"A  coward !"  exclaimed  Manulito,  as  he  violently 
broke  his  necklace  and  flung  it  to  the  ground.  "  A 
coward !"  he  repeated,  fiercely,  as  if  he  had  mis 
taken  the  word,  and  his  voice  choked  with  violent 
emotion.  "  Who  calls  the  Black  Wolf  a  coward  ? 
Is  there  a  man  among  you  who  dares  to  step  from 
amid  these  walls  of  pointed  spears  and  say  to  the 
Black  Wolf,  '  You  are  a  coward'  ?  Around  the 
Black  Wolf  there  are  hundreds  of  warriors ;  then  let 
not  an  unknown  voice  from  the  midst  of  this  armed 
array  accuse  him  of  being  a  coward.  Manulito  a 
coward !  Let  him  who  dares  to  speak  that  word  step 
from  the  ranks  of  his  tribe  !  Let  this  wall  of  steel 
open,  then  close,  and  in  the  closing  leave  him  and 
Manulito  within  its  circle.  Then  shall  a  just  ven 
geance  be  wreaked,  for  by  the  spirit  of  his  dead 
father,  the  Black  Wolf  swears  that  he  will  cut  that 
warrior's  tongue  from  his  throat,  and  while  he  yet 
lives  will  hang  his  reeking  scalp  to  his  belt !  Cow 
ard  ?  Oh !"  he  sneered,  as  he  glared  at  one,  then  an 
other,  "  it  is  safe  to  call  a  warrior  such  a  name  when 
he  who  dares  not  show  himself  is  hemmed  in  and 
protected  by  armed  warriors  !  The  Black  Wolf  has 
not  forgotten  his  vows.  He  never  took  oath  to  wage 
war  against  the  whites.  Has  he  not  at  all  times 


260  MANULITO. 

and  places  upheld  the  honor  of  your  people  ?  Has 
he  disgraced  you  ?  If  so,  in  what  ?  For  he  stands 
before  you  alive  and  strong,  ready  to  battle  for 
your  rights,  or  to  defy  your  vengeance,  but  not  to 
injure  one  hair  of  this  man's  head.  Injure  him  ? 
"Why,  he  is  my  brother !  And  the  laws  of  your 
tribe  demand  the  life  of  him  who  slays  his  brother. 
My  brother  ?  Yes,  in  the  sight  of  man  and  in  the 
sight  of  God !  You  know  him  not.  He  is  the 
Gray  Eagle,  noble,  generous,  brave,  good,  and  his 
soul  is  possessed  of  all  the  virtues  that  are  given  to 
men !  And  even  if  he  did  not  possess  all  these, 
still  Manulito  would  protect  him,  because  he  is  his 
brother  !  And  when  your  warriors  insult  the  Black 
Wolf, — confined  as  he  is,  unable  to  fight  as  warriors 
love  to  fight, — when  they  revile  and  upbraid  him, 
they  are  like  squaws,  who,  when  a  warrior  is  cap 
tive  and  cannot  defend  himself,  cut  him  with 
knives,  pierce  him  with  sharpened  sticks,  or  flay 
him  with  raw-hides,  though  were  he  free,  they 
would  flee  in  terror !  They  are  like  wolves,  who, 
when  alone,  are  afraid  of  the  stag,  but  when  that 
stag  is  at  bay,  and  there  are  scores  or  hundreds  or 
thousands  of  them,  will  worry  it  to  exhaustion  and 
tear  it  to  pieces  !  They  are  like  pappooses  who  flee 
at  the  cry  of  the  mountain-lion,  but  when  once  it 
is  captured,  its  fangs  removed,  and  it  is  bound 
with  thongs,  are  brave,  and  can  torture  it!" 

His  cutting  words  enraged  his  hearers,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  they  would   pierce   him  with   their 


MANULITO.  261 

spears.  He  read  their  thoughts,  but  was  absolutely 
fearless. 

"  Strike,  if  you  will !"  continued  he.  "  Manulito 
fears  not  death,  and  death  alone  will  keep  him  from 
protecting  his  brother.  And  this  is  his  reward  for 
what  he  has  done  for  his  adopted  tribe !  Who 
among  you  dares  to  say  that  Manulito  ever  shrank 
from  any  danger  ?  Who  among  you  can  say  that 
Manulito  dared  not  lead  where  others  hesitated  to 
follow  ?  Who  among  you  can  say  that  he  ever  lost 
a  fight,  whether  in  single  combat  or  at  the  head  of 
his  warriors  ?  Who  was  it  that,  when  sick  at  his 
lodge,  scarce  able  to  walk,  mounted  his  war-horse, 
and  in  command  of  old  men  and  squaws,  defended 
your  village  against  the  picked  warriors  of  the 
Apaches  ?  Who  was  it  that,  when  your  tribe  was 
scourged  with  the  small-pox,  remained  from  the 
war-path  and  nursed  and  cared  for  your  sick? 
Who  was  it  that,  when  clouds  burst  from  the  skies 
and  flooded  the  village  with  water,  defied  the  storm 
and  saved  your  people  ?  Who  was  it  that,  when 
captured  by  the  Apaches  and  bound  to  his  horse, 
escaped  and  fled,  while  his  pursuers  were  like  cows 
chasing  a  deer,  when  they  sought  to  overtake  the 
Imp  o'  Darkness  ?  Who  was  it  that  saved  the  war 
rior,  your  interpreter,  the  Big  Elk,  when  in  the 
hands  of  the  Arapahoes  ?" 

"  It  was  Manulito  !"  thundered  the  voice  of  the 
Big  Elk. 

"And  for  all  these  things,"  continued  Manu- 


262  MANULITO. 

lito,  "  for  months  and  years  of  service  and  friend 
ship  and  teaching  of  methods  of  warfare  and  lead 
ing  you  to  victory  and  saving  your  village  and 
nursing  your  sick, — yes,  for  all  these  his  reward  is 
to  be — death !  It  matters  not  to  the  Black  Wolf, 
for  he  has  long  sought  death !  He  has  no  home, 
and  has  long  been  ready  to  die  !  But  his  brother 
shall  be  saved."  And  then  he  told  the  story  of 
his  life  with  Wellington,  speaking  with  the  deepest 
emotion  as  he  recalled  the  many  kindnesses  he  had 
received  at  his  hands.  His  speech  had  a  visible 
effect,  and  yet  there  were  some  who  could  not  allow 
their  love  of  strife  and  bloodshed  to  be  overcome 
by  sympathy  for  an  adopted  member  of  their  tribe 
and  for  a  white  man,  whose  race  they  hated,  and 
these  insisted  that  the  fight  be  renewed. 

"  It  shall  not  be  renewed  !"  exclaimed  Manulito, 
glaring  around  him ;  "  for  sooner  than  raise  his 
hand  against  his  brother,  Manulito  would  die  by 
his  own  knife.  You  want  to  see  me  fight,"  said 
he,  his  veins  swelling  with  anger.  "  You  shall  be 
gratified.  Stand  back,  that  the  Black  Wolf  may 
have  room !" 

Appalled  by  his  terrible  anger,  they  insensibly 
fell  back  before  him,  as  he  stood,  his  shield  in  po 
sition  for  battle,  his  left  foot  advanced,  his  right 
arm  extended  far  above  his  head,  his  hand  waving 
his  glittering  knife,  while  his  eyes  were  raised  as  if 
calling  Heaven  to  witness  his  awful  threat  of  ven 
geance  as  he  defied  his  tribe. 


MANULITO.  263 

"  And  now  that  you  want  blood  shed,  it  shall  be 
so,  for  Manulito  challenges  every  warrior  in  your 
tribe  to  single  combat.  Let  the  strongest  and  the 
bravest  come  first,  for  Manulito  will  fight  for  his 
brother,  and  the  Great  Spirit  will  give  strength  to 
his  arm,  and  when  his  body  is  covered  with  wounds 
and  he  is  weakened  from  loss  of  blood,  he  will 
strike  again  and  again,  and  when  his  strength  has 
failed  him,  and  his  willing  heart  cannot  longer  up 
raise  his  tired  arm,  he  will  receive  his  death-blow 
with  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  thank  his  God  that  he 
died  fighting  to  save  his  brother." 

"  No  I  no  !  This  shall  not  be !"  exclaimed  the 
Big  Elk.  «  For  if  the  Black  Wolf  fights  one  of  you, 
it  must  be  over  my  dead  body !" 

"  The  Black  Wolf  is  right,"  interrupted  Running 
Water.  "  The  pale-face  is  his  brother,  and  who 
shall  say  that  the  brother  of  Manulito  is  not  our 
brother  ?" 

"  He  shall  be  our  brother !"  exclaimed  scores  of 
voices. 

Like  an  avalanche  which  hesitates,  then  starts, 
and  gathers  increased  force  each  moment,  so  the 
warriors  flocked  to  Manulito's  support,  until  soon 
all  were  with  him. 

During  the  fierce  and  impassioned  speech  of 
Manulito,  Wellington  tried  to  read  the  thoughts 
of  the  Indians,  for  Manulito  spoke  in  their  lan 
guage.  When  he  recalled  to  them  the  many  things 
he  had  done  for  their  tribe,  the  benefits  arising 


264  MANVLITO. 

from  his  coming  among  them,  their  features  soft 
ened,  and  when  later  he  told  of  his  fraternal  love, 
and  of  his  willingness  to  sacrifice  his  life  in  defence 
of  his  brother,  their  eyes  brightened  with  sym 
pathy,  they  approved  of  his  generosity,  their  chiv 
alrous  spirit  was  touched,  the  battle  was  won,  and 
"Wellington's  life  was  saved. 

The  weird  and  picturesque  scenes  were  for  the 
time  lost  to  Wellington's  observing  eyes,  for  as  he 
stood  surrounded  by  those  who  were  so  recently 
his  avowed  enemies,  the  incidents  of  the  past  few 
days  seemed  like  a  dream,  and  now  the  ferocity 
which  had  darkened  the  faces  of  his  captors  gave 
place  to  an  expression  of  interest,  made  still  more 
pleasant  by  eyes  which  extended  to  him  good-will 
and  a  welcome. 

Now  that  the  strife  was  ended  and  the  Coman- 
ches  had  extended  to  Wellington  the  hand  of 
fraternity,  they  considered  him  a  guest  who  had 
honored  their  tribe  by  his  presence,  and  they 
sought  the  opportunity  of  showing  him  how  truly 
welcome  he  was  among  them.  Manulito  appre 
ciated  this,  and  while  his  adopted  tribe  were  show 
ing  their  delight  in  salutations  and  in  various  ways, 
expressive  of  their  friendship,  his  face  was  wreathed 
in  smiles,  for  in  honoring  his  friend  and  brother 
they  were  doing  that  which  touched  Manulito's 
heart  to  its  depth.  As  Wellington  looked  around 
and  saw  the  wildness  of  his  surroundings  and 
recognized  that  he  was  free,  and  that  those  who 


MANULITO.  265 

had  sentenced  him  to  death  were  now  his  firmest 
friends,  ready  to  serve  him,  to  honor  him,  and  if 
need  be,  to  die  for  him,  his  heart  thrilled,  and  his 
soul  went  out  to  these  people.  Manulito  seemed 
to  read  his  thoughts,  and  he  caught  the  spirit  of 
inspiration  as  he  said,  "As  when  the  weary  day 
has  gone  to  rest,  soothed  to  sleep  by  the  stars  of 
night,  and  the  dew  from  heaven  falls  to  the  earth 
like  tears  from  thousands  of  angels'  eyes,  so  is  this 
sympathy  arid  generous  interest  to  my  tired  brother 
after  his  trials  and  sufferings.  "When  the  sky  is 
darkest,  and  the  wrath  of  the  Great  Spirit  seems 
centred  in  the  angry  clouds,  and  the  thunders 
strive  to  split  the  heavens,  allowing  the  forked 
lightning  to  escape, — when  all  seems  lost, — the 
clouds  break  away,  the  darkest  ones  are  fringed 
with  silver  and  gold,  reflected  from  the  light  of  the 
sun ;  the  thunders  subside  into  distant  mutterings ; 
the  sun  shines  again,  and  the  drops  of  rain  sparkle 
on  the  prairie  grass ;  the  birds  sing  more  sweetly, 
and  all  the  earth  rejoices :  storms  and  past  dangers 
are  forgotten,  and  the  happiness  of  the  present 
banishes  the  threats  of  the  past.  So  is  it  with  my 
brother's  life." 

"Yes!  yes!"  exclaimed  Wellington,  "you  are 
the  same  Manulito;  the  same  philosopher;  the 
same  dear  friend;  you  make  the  same  beautiful 
comparisons,  wherein  the  sky,  the  earth,  the  sea 
sons,  and  all  nature  serve  to  better  illustrate  your 
thoughts.  But  your  friends  are  looking  askance  at 
M  23 


266  MANULITO. 

you  and  me,  wondering,  perhaps,  of  what  we  are 
talking.  We  have  much  to  say,  but  not  here. 
Let  us  show  them  our  appreciation  of  their  hospi 
tality,  and  to-night,  in  the  seclusion  of  your  lodge, 
we  will  live  over  again  many  of  the  incidents  of 
our  lives." 

As  Wellington  finished,  Running  Water  and  his 
warriors  were  waiting  deferentially  for  the  conclu 
sion  of  the  conversation,  and  Manulito,  who  spoke 
both  the  Comanche  and  the  English  languages, 
acted  as  interpreter,  and  said,  "  My  white  brother, 
the  Gray  Eagle,  awaits  the  pleasure  of  our  chief, 
the  warrior  Running  Water." 

"  Say  to  the  Gray  Eagle,"  said  Running  Water, 
"  that  the  brother  of  Manulito  is  our  brother ; 
that  our  lodges  are  open  to  him;  that  we  have 
venison  and  buffalo-meat  in  plenty ;  and  that  we 
hope  he  will  remain  with  us  for  many  days,  for 
then  he  can  see  our  dances,  can  see  how  we  wel 
come  a  brother  from  another  tribe,  and,  great 
hunter  that  he  is,  can  join  us  in  our  buffalo-hunt." 

Manulito  interpreted  the  speech  to  Welllington, 
who  smilingly  said,  "  Well,  Manulito,  I  guess  you 
will  have  to  talk  for  me  this  time ;  but  tell  him  that 
I  thank  him  for  these  manifestations  of  kindness, 
and  appreciate  the  generous  sentiments  expressed, 
but  that  I  fear  my  visit  must  be  short,  as  I  must 
return  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow !"  exclaimed  Manulito,  in  deep  sur 
prise,  while  his  tone  conveyed  the  depth  of  his 


MANULITO.  267 

feelings.  "  To-morrow !  And  must  the  separation 
of  years  be  renewed  so  soon  ?  Must  Manulito  in 
so  short  a  time  have  dashed  from  his  lips  the  cup 
of  happiness  which  is  nqw  overflowing  ?  To-mor 
row?  That  is  but  a  day.  The  sun  will  sink  to 
rest,  the  stars  shine  through  the  night,  the  gray  of 
dawn  appear,  the  sun  rise  over  yonder  hill,  mount 
to  the  highest  heavens,  and  then — my  brother  will 
be  gone,  perhaps  forever,  for  to-morrow  will  be 
here.  "What  Manulito  has  prayed  for  for  years  has 
happened, — his  brother  has  come.  But  like  the  will- 
o'-the-wisp  which  flashes  in  the  lowland  on  a  sum 
mer's  evening  and  then  as  suddenly  disappears,  so 
would  my  brother's  visit  be.  To-morrow?  No  I 
that  cannot  be,  for  Manulito  could  not  talk  when 
the  day  was  turned  to  night,  the  night  to  an  hour, 
and  the  hour  to  fleeting  moments.  Let  Manulito 
say  what  his  heart  prompts  him  to."  And  ad 
dressing  Running  Water,  he  said, — 

"  The  Gray  Eagle  thanks  you  all  for  the  kindness 
you  show  him  in  asking  him  to  dwell  with  you  for 
many  days.  He  knows  how  welcome  he  is,  how 
much  he  would  enjoy  being  with  you.  He  has  not 
decided  how  long  he  can  stay,  but  at  least  will 
remain  until  he  may  see  how  the  children  of  the 
prairie  hunt  the  buffalo." 

To  this  Running  Water  replied  that  he  hoped 
the  Gray  Eagle  would  conclude  to  make  them  a 
long  visit,  a  wish  in  which  the  heart  of  Manulito 
fervently  acquiesced. 


268  MANULITO. 

The  afternoon  was  passed  by  Wellington  and 
Manulito  in  visiting  the  villagers,  and  "Wellington 
soon  became  a  stanch  favorite,  for  he  had  a  kind 
word  and  a  pleasant  smile  for  all.  Active  prepara- 
rations  had  been  made  for  the  Buffalo-Dance  which 
was  to  occur  that  night,  and  as  twilight  came  on 
the  chiefs  and  warriors  seated  themselves  in  a  semi 
circle  in  readiness  for  the  coming  ceremony.  The 
buffalo-hunt  had  been  decided  on  for  many  days,  for 
at  this  season  of  the  year  provision  was  always  made 
for  the  following  winter.  The  success  of  the  hunts 
was  more  or  less  dependent  on  chance,  for  at  times 
game  was  found  in  great  abundance,  and  again  it 
was  quite  scarce.  As  their  winter  stores  depended 
largely  upon  these  hunts,  the  most  ample  prepara 
tions  were  made  for  them.  These  people  were  firm 
believers  in  the  existence  of  a  deity,  and  to  him 
they  constantly  appealed,  not  so  much  by  personal 
intercession  as  through  the  pleadings,  sacrifices, 
and  prayers  of  their  medicine-men,  whom  they 
believed  had  occult  power  with  their  Manitou. 
These  medicine-men  had  fasted  and  made  sacrifices 
for  a  number  of  days,  and  now  the  common  people 
and  the  warriors  were  to  offer  a  last  plea,  which 
consisted  in  a  supplicatory  dance,  showing  their 
humiliation  and  their  craving  for  the  aid  and  sup 
port  of  the  Great  Spirit.  As  the  spectators  sat  or 
stood  in  the  glare  of  the  fire  which  was  reflected 
on  the  many  dark  but  earnest  faces,  the  scene  was 
impressive  beyond  description.  There  was  a  deep 


MANUL1TO.  269 

solemnity  about  the  occasion  which  conveyed  to 
Wellington  the  sincerity  of  the  participants.  Man- 
ulito  gazed  at  his  white  brother  interrogatively,  and 
then,  as  if  satisfied  with  a  silent  answer,  looked 
steadily  forward,  knowing  that  his  friend  sympa 
thized  with  these  earnest  men,  who  were  illiterate, 
untutored,  savage,  but  were  still  controlled  by  the 
love  for  one  whom  they  could  not  see,  but  in  whom 
they  had  implicit  faith.  As  the  fire  blazed  higher, 
twelve  buffalo-skulls  were  placed  on  the  ground  in 
a  semicircle,  while  near  them  stood  medicine-men 
with  bows  and  arrows,  consecrated  by  frequent  in 
vocations  and  the  use  of  sacred  herbs.  The  medi 
cine-men  bowed  their  heads  in  silent  prayer,  or  in 
low  tones  besought  the  Great  Spirit  to  sanction 
the  hunt  and  lead  the  band  to  success.  The  peti 
tioners  showed  their  humility  not  only  in  their  atti 
tudes,  but  in  their  quivering  voices  as  they  asked 
that  their  prayers  be  answered.  When  these  old 
men  had  finished  their  invocations,  a  drum  sounded 
with  a  rumbling  noise,  and  there  sprang  into  the 
circle  a  number  of  almost  naked  warriors,  who 
danced  with  noisy  demonstrations  of  delight,  as  if 
the  hunt  was  an  assured  success.  When  these  were 
exhausted  others  filled  their  places,  and  so  the  dance 
was  prolonged  throughout  the  night. 

Wellington  and  Manulito  remained  until  mid 
night,  and  then  they  repaired  to  the  lodge  of  the 
latter.  As  they  entered  the  door,  Wellington  turned 
and  said,  "  And  this,  Manulito,  is  your  home.  I 

23* 


270  MANULITO. 

never  thought  to  visit  it,  but  now  that  I  am  within 
its  portals,  I  have  a  feeling  of  security  that  I  have 
not  experienced  before.  How  natural  everything 
seems !  Natural,  and  yet  all  these  beautiful  tro 
phies  of  your  skill  with  the  rifle  are  strange  to  me. 
But  there  is  about  your  lodge  an  evidence  of  civ 
ilization  which  would  convince  any  one  that  its 
owner  was  accustomed  to  a  home  among  the  better 
class  of  white  people.  How  contented  I  am  !"  con 
tinued  he,  as  he  seated  himself  on  a  divan  of  skins 
of  the  mountain-lion,  while  his  feet  rested  in  the 
long  white  fleece  of  the  wild  goat.  "  And  how 
beautifully  you  have  adorned  your  lodge  !  As  I 
look  around  and  see  the  evidences  of  your  skill, 
the  robes  of  deer  and  wolves,  of  antelope  and  bear, 
and  on  your  walls  the  feathers  of  the  golden  eagle 
and  the  great  bald  eagle,  it  seems  as  if  the  birds 
and  beasts  have  all  paid  tribute  to  you.  And  then, 
how  natural  the  head  of  that  grizzly,  with  its  hor 
rid  teeth !" 

As  Wellington  proceeded,  Manulito  had  seated 
himself  at  his  visitor's  feet,  and  each  complimentary 
word  was  like  music  in  his  ears.  He  looked  up 
into  Wellington's  face  as  a  slave  would  gaze  at 
his  beloved  master.  "  And  so  you  like  my  home  ?" 
inquired  he. 

"  Like  it !"  said  Wellington.  "  It's  grand !  It's 
beautiful !" 

"  Oh,  I  thank  you  for  those  words !"  said  the  In 
dian.  "For  whenever  Manulito  added  a  trophy  to 


MANULITO.  271 

his  wigwam  his  heart  always  went  out  to  his  brother, 
and  he  longed  for  him  to  be  here  to  see  and  enjoy 
these  things.  But  my  brother  is  tired.  lie  must 
sleep,  and  when  he  sleeps  Manulito  will  ask  aloud, 
as  his  heart  has  always  asked,  that  the  Great  Spirit 
will  watch  over  him  and  protect  him."  At  this 
Manulito  drew  the  curtain ;  but  when  Wellington 
had  fallen  asleep  the  Indian  softly  entered  and  sat 
with  folded  arms  beside  his  sleeping  brother,  while 
a  smile  of  satisfaction  played  over  his  noble  face. 

Wellington  slept  soundly  until  the  morning  was 
far  advanced,  and  when  he  awakened  he  was  dazed 
for  a  moment,  uncertain  of  his  situation ;  but  his 
faithful  friend  was  waiting  for  him  and  cheerfully 
greeted  him.  All  through  the  morning  the  tribe 
waited  with  anxious  expectation  the  return  of  the 
couriers  who  had  been  sent  out  to  locate  the  wan 
dering  herds  of  buffalo.  It  was  late  in  the  day 
when  they  returned,  and  then  they  told  of  an  im 
mense  herd  that  was  grazing  many  hours'  travel 
from  the  village.  Distance,  however,  was  no  obsta 
cle  to  their  hunt,  for  hours  frequently  lengthened 
into  days  when  they  were  on  the  chase,  and  the  hope 
of  finding  game  was  the  delicacy  that  whetted  their 
appetites  for  the  excitement  and  pleasure  they  an 
ticipated.  It  was  therefore  decided  that  they  should 
begin  the  journey  at  once,  approach  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  herd,  and  then  at  break  of  day  ad 
vance  on  their  errand  of  destruction.  Officers 
were  selected  and  put  in  command,  for  any  indis- 


272  MANULITO. 

criminate  hunting  or  unsystematic  pursuit  would 
result  in  simply  frightening  the  game,  and  would 
destroy  their  chances  of  success.  Very  soon  the 
cavalcade  set  out, — a  joyous  crowd,  for  at  the  start 
there  was  no  necessity  for  silence,  as  the  game  was 
too  far  from  them  to  render  any  precautions  neces 
sary. 

First  rode  the  warriors  on  their  horses;  then 
came  others,  fleet  of  foot,  hut  not  owning  ponies ; 
then  squaws  and  boys,  mounted  and  leading  pack- 
horses,  while  all  were  provided  with  the  materials 
for  the  immediate  care  of  the  skins  and  meat.  Far 
in  advance  of  this  immense  train,  scouts  stood  on 
elevated  points  and  beckoned  the  hunters  to  ad 
vance.  The  sentinels  were  guided  by  a  system  of 
silent  telegraphy,  whereby  others,  who  were  still 
farther  advanced,  signalled  the  condition  of  the 
outlook.  Thus  they  travelled  along  until  the  hours 
lengthened ;  but,  strange  as  it  seemed,  those  on  foot 
were  tireless,  and  walked  and  ran  with  comparative 
ease,  apparently  incapable  of  fatigue.  They  ques 
tioned  not  the  distance,  but  trotted  along,  at  times 
flogging  the  lagging  ponies  or  jerking  them  by 
their  rope-bridles  to  quicken  their  speed.  The 
squaws  chatted,  and,  riding  astride  their  ponies, 
seemed  to  keep  up  a  continuous  thumping  of  their 
heels  against  the  ribs  of  the  patient  animals. 

As  Wellington  and  Manulito  rode  side  by  side, 
the  former  said,  "  I  have  wished  so  many  times, 
Mauulito,  that  you  could  look  in  at  our  fireside 


MANULITO.  273 

and  see  the  beautiful  picture  of  domestic  happiness 
that  has  always  blessed  my  home.  And  so  many 
times  in  the  fall,  or  more  especially  in  mid-winter, 
when  the  crackling  fire  threw  out  its  generous 
heat,  and  when  the  twilight  was  fast  usurping  the 
light  of  the  dying  day,  we  found  our  greatest  de 
light  in  talking  and  thinking  of  you.  Imagine  a 
room  furnished  with  rich  but  not  gaudy  furniture ; 
with  curtains,  carpets,  walls  and  ceilings,  blending 
their  colors  with  perfect  harmony;  beautiful  pict 
ures  seem  to  fill  each  niche  and  vacant  spot ;  the 
mantels  are  ornamented  with  dainty  bric-a-brac, 
while  curiosities  from  other  climes  add  to  the 
beauty  and  variety  of  this,  our  sitting-room.  Be 
fore  the  fire,  which  sputters  and  crackles,  just  as 
our  grate  fire  did  at  the  old  homestead  years  ago, 
there  are  seated  father,  mother,  sister,  and  brother. 
Our  boy  is  quite  a  young  man  now,  and  he  re 
members  you  so  well,  and  hopes  to  see  you ;  and 
our  little  girl,  you  would  know  her  anywhere ;  she 
is  still  the  pure,  good  angel  she  always  was, — grown 
taller,  of  course,  and  more  beautiful.  On  those 
wintry  nights  when  the  winds  shriek  through  the 
trees  and  wires  I  appreciate  most  my  pleasant  and 
happy  home.  And  when  I  see  and  enjoy  those 
sights,  although  I  am  not  what  the  world  calls  a 
Christian,  Manulito,  I  am  willing  to  admit  that  I 
have  many  times  secretly  thanked  God  for  those 
blessings. 

"In  that  room,  Manulito,   is   a  picture  which 


274  MANUL1TO. 

we  prize  more  than  anything  we  possess.  It 
hangs  over  the  mantel,  and  when,  as  is  often  the 
case,  our  home  is  thrown  open  to  receive  our 
friends,  including  among  them  men  wise  in  juris 
prudence,  renowned  in  literature,  and  skilled  in 
art,  there  are  none  so  high  in  positions  of  honor 
that  they  have  not  been  fascinated  with  it.  It  is 
my  inspiration,  Manulito,  and  seems  to  lead  me  to 
greater  thoughts,  and  surely  to  better  deeds ;  I 
love  to  talk  of  it,  and  when  I  am  before  it,  and 
speak  of  him  who  gazes  down  on  me  with  such 
quiet  dignity,  my  soul  is  in  sweet  communion  with 
him,  for  I  know  the  purity  of  his  heart.  It's  only 
a  picture,  Manulito, — only  a  picture.  But  every 
line  is  a  mine  of  pleasant  reminiscences  to  me. 

"  The  picture,"  continued  Wellington,  "  is  one 
of  the  most  perfect  I  have  ever  seen.  The  figures 
are  so  accurately  drawn  that  they  seem  imbued 
with  life ;  the  moonlight  streams  through  the  trees, 
giving  the  shadows  a  denser  gloom ;  the  leaves 
seem  to  tremble  in  the  night  air,  while  one  almost 
feels  the  soft  balm  of  the  summer  night.  It  was 
painted,  Manulito,  by  a  celebrated  artist  who  had 
never  seen  the  landscape  or  the  figures,  but  I  had 
seen  both,  and  the  sight  was  so  indelibly  impressed 
on  my  heart  and  mind,  that  each  tree,  each  bush, 
every  vein  on  the  horse,  even  the  position  of  his 
flowing  mane  and  the  curve  of  his  sweeping  tail, 
were  before  my  sight.  And  if  I  could  remember 
these  minor  things,  so  as  to  depict  them  to  this 


MANULITO.  275 

artist  and  point  out  to  him  each  trifling  variation 
between  his  work  and  the  picture  in  ray  mind, 
always  suggesting  a  correct  alteration, — if,  as  I  say, 
I  could  do  this,  is  it  strange  that  when  the  rider's 
face  was  so  indelibly  engraven  on  my  very  soul,  I 
could  tell  how  he  looked, — his  forehead,  his  eyes, 
his  nose,  his  mouth  ?  They  were  photographed  on 
my  heart,  and  my  eyes,  as  agents  of  my  heart,  were 
able  to  recognize  any  defect  in  the  painting.  It  is 
a  picture  of  you,  Manulito, — of  you  and  Imp  o' 
Darkness,  the  night  you  waved  us  that  last  sad 
farewell,  the  night  you  left  our  home,  as  we 
believed,  forever. 

"  And  when  I  look  at  the  painting,  it  seems  as 
if  my  eyes  see  you  just  as  you  looked  that  night, 
slowly  threading  your  way  among  the  trees,  then 
temporarily  disappearing.  And  my  anxious  ears 
hear,  then  lose  again,  the  footfalls  of  your  noble 
horse,  until  at  last  you  are  on  the  brow  of  the  hill, — 
yourself  and  steed  in  distant  outline  against  the 
sky, — as  you  give  a  last  wave  of  your  hand.  When 
I  look  at  your  picture  my  ambition  is  greater ;  my 
thoughts  purer  and  nobler ;  my  life  better.  That 
painting  is  my  guiding  star,  for  in  it  you  seem  to 
beckon  me  ever  forward  to  greater  deeds.  So  in 
years  to  come,  when  you  think  of  that  picture,  let 
that  love  for  us  grow  stronger,  for  you  will  know 
that  you  are  not  forgotten.  My  successes  and 
triumphs,  the  pleasures  that  money  bring,  will  not 
change  my  love  towards  you.  Those  things  are 


276  MANULITO. 

temporal  and  secondary;  for  this  strange  friend 
ship  which  has  existed  and  united  us  in  life  will  be 
severed  only  by  death.  And  should  it  please  the 
Great  Spirit  to  take  you  first,  I  want  your  trusted 
friends  to  know  the  place  of  your  burial,  that  I 
may  visit  that  sacred  spot;  for  I  know  that  the 
gates  of  heaven  would  be  opened,  that  you  might 
look  down  and  see  him  who  was  faithful  in  life 
weeping  at  your  grave. " 

It  seemed  as  if  Manulito's  heart  was  too  full  for 
speech,  as  he  listened  to  this  avowal  of  love  from 
the  man  he  idolized.  And  he  rode  along,  his  head 
bowed,  as  if  he  could  not  find  words  to  express  his 
feelings. 

Suddenly  the  signal  to  halt  was  given  by  the 
advance  sentinel,  and  at  once  they  all  became  as 
silent  as  death,  for  that  signal  indicated  that  the 
herd  had  been  found.  The  silence  was  too  oppres 
sive,  however,  and  the  Indians  began  to  indulge  in 
subdued  talk,  as  if  they  were  unable  to  restrain 
their  ardor.  Just  then  a  warrior,  who  was  recog 
nized  as  one  of  the  scouts,  was  seen  riding  hastily 
towards  them,  and  he  reported  that  the  herd  was 
resting  quietly  within  a  few  miles  from  there. 

As  it  was  not  yet  light,  they  concluded  to  rest 
for  a  few  hours. 


THE  CHASE,  277 

CHAPTER   XY. 

THE  CHASE. 

"  Like  yelling  fiends  the  tribes  are  out, 
With  nourish 'd  lances,  with  frantic  shout  I 
Each  plume  of  feathers,  each  scalp-lock  tress, 
Streams  in  the  breeze  of  the  wilderness ; 
While  fast  and  far,  in  desperate  race, 
Speeds  on  the  bison,  speeds  on  the  chase." 

McLELLAN. 

AT  break  of  day,  the  Indians  selected  their 
ponies,  and  preparations  were  made  for  the  ad 
vance.  The  scouting-parties  reported  that  the  herd 
was  still  at  the  same  place,  unsuspicious  of  danger 
and  quietly  grazing.  Couriers  were  again  sent  out, 
and  the  band  was  at  once  placed  under  the  strict 
orders  of  their  commanders.  "No  firearms  were  per 
mitted  to  be  used,  except  by  "Wellington,  for  they 
desired  to  do  as  much  execution  as  possible  without 
more  noise  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  All 
were  armed  with  strong  bows,  lances,  and  a  quiver 
containing  many  arrows,  but  Manulito,  on  account 
of  the  loss  of  his  left  hand,  could  use  only  lances. 

As  the  Indians  approached  they  displayed  great 
ingenuity,  for  it  was  necessary  to  surround  the  herd 
and  to  disconcert  them  so  that  they  would  run  dis 
tractedly  about.  First,  the  fleetest  footmen  crawled 
through  the  high  grass  and  stopped  at  the  spot 

24 


278  MASULITO. 

designated  for  them.  There  they  lay  concealed, 
awaiting  orders.  AVhile  they  were  waiting,  others 
stealthily  surrounded  the  herd,  and  remained  ready 
to  advance  at  the  promised  signal.  Behind  a  rise 
of  ground  which  was  quite  near,  the  rest  of  the 
party  stood  beside  the  ponies,  ready  to  mount  at  a 
moment's  notice. 

It  had  been  previously  arranged  that  those  on 
foot  should  begin  the  attack,  and  continue  it  as 
long  as  they  could  keep  the  buffaloes  within  their 
range,  and  then,  after  the  beasts  had  stampeded, 
the  mounted  Indians  were  to  join  in  the  pursuit 
But  in  order  that  the  buffaloes  should  not  gain  on 
those  who  would  be  waiting,  the  mounted  assail 
ants  intended  following  closely  those  who  preceded 
them  on  foot.  While  the  carnage  was  expected  and 
desired  to  be  great,  those  who  slew  the  animals 
were  not  to  claim  the  meat,  which  went  to  the 
first  one  getting  it;  but  the  robes  belonged  to 
the  slayers,  who  were  easily  known  by  their  ar 
rows,  which  always  bore  some  private  mark  for 
identification.  Therefore,  after  the  animals  were 
killed,  the  squaws  removed  the  hides  and  carefully 
rolled  them  up,  leaving  sticking  to  them  the  fatal 
arrows,  by  which  the  owners  afterwards  claimed 
them.  Thus  it  often  happened  that  some  brave 
who  had  killed  the  greatest  number  of  buffaloes 
would  at  the  end  of  the  day  have  an  immense  pile 
of  skins  coming  to  him,  but  not  a  pound  of  meat, 
because  he  had  no  squaw  to  provide  for  him, 


THE  CHASE.  279 

while  some  lazy  hunter  with  a  tireless  squaw  would 
return  to  camp  with  his  ponies  laden  with  meat. 
While  this  rule  was  far  from  equitable,  still  it  was 
the  custom  and  entirely  satisfactory  to  the  parties 
interested. 

When  all  were  ready  for  the  attack  the  signal 
was  given,  and  hundreds  of  anxious  eyes  noted  the 
result  of  the  first  movement.  Immediately  there 
were  seen,  skulking  through  the  grass,  several  In 
dians,  who  hopped  along  on  their  hands  and  knees, 
imitating  as  closely  as  possible  the  motions  of 
wolves.  They  advanced,  then  hesitated  and  sat  on 
their  haunches,  following  closely  the  movements 
of  those  animals,  for  they  knew  the  buffaloes  were 
accustomed  to  them. 

At  first  the  buffaloes  paid  no  attention,  but  quietly 
and  indifferently  grazed  along,  or  now  and  then 
raised  their  heads  slightly,  as  if  the  boldness  of  the 
intruders  was  worthy  of  some  trifling  notice.  But 
soon  their  indifference  changed  to  interest,  and  that 
interest  to  alarm,  for  they  saw  that  the  decoys  were 
different  from  the  wolves  which  they  were  accus 
tomed  to  seeing,  and  they  shifted  uneasily  and 
walked  faster  while  grazing,  rolling  their  great 
eyes  in  watchfulness  towards  the  intruders.  Their 
alarm  grew  to  consternation,  and  those  on  the  outer 
edge  surged  and  crowded  against  their  neighbors, 
who,  not  seeing  the  cause  of  the  excitement,  peace 
fully  submitted,  or  offered  mild  resistance  by  hook 
ing  or  bunting  those  nearest  them. 


280  MANULITO. 

Curiosity  has  a  strange  power  over  animals,  and 
they  will  often  defy  danger  for  the  moment  in  order 
to  investigate  some  mysterious  sight.  So  it  was  with 
these  buffaloes :  they  recognized  a  danger,  feared 
it,  and  yet  courted  it ;  for,  instead  of  fleeing  when 
it  was  at  a  distance,  they  waited  until  it  was  upon 
them,  and  several  of  the  bolder  ones  advanced  at 
times  with  lowered  heads,  as  if  defying  their  strange 
visitors,  and  then  hastily  retreated  to  the  herd,  as  if 
astonished  at  their  own  lack  of  discretion.  By  this 
time  the  Indians  were  almost  within  effective  arrow- 
shot,  and,  simultaneously  jumping  to  their  feet,  they 
ran  towards  the  closely-packed  herd.  Each  Indian 
picked  his  victim,  and  the  twanging  of  their  bows, 
the  thudding  of  the  arrows  as  they  sank  into  the 
affrighted  beasts,  was  speedily  drowned  by  the 
shuffling  noise  which  accompanies  the  getting  into 
motion  of  a  large  body  of  animals.  The  buffaloes 
squeezed  together,  trying  to  crowd  over  one  an 
other  in  their  anxiety  to  run,  and  it  was  but  a 
few  moments  before  all  were  in  motion,  and  with 
lowered  heads  dashed  away.  They  had  but  fairly 
gotten  under  headway,  with  their  route  determined 
on,  when,  to  their  astonishment,  scores  of  Indians 
rose  from  the  grass  ahead  of  them,  and,  waving 
their  blankets  and  yelling  wildly,  changed  the 
course  of  the  affrighted  animals.  As  the  hunters 
saw  this,  they  cheered  louder  than  before,  and  ran 
to  the  side  line  of  the  herd  to  take  their  part  in  the 
slaughter.  Whichever  way  the  poor  brutes  ran, 


THE   CHASE.  281 

Indians  arose  as  if  by  magic  and  changed  their 
course,  until  the  prairie  was  a  confused  mass  of 
buffaloes  and  Indians  on  foot  and  on  horseback. 

The  buffaloes  were  wild  with  terror,  and  the  In 
dians,  crazy  with  excitement,  forgot  the  element  of 
danger  connected  with  the  chase  and  boldly  charged 
into  the  midst  of  the  herd ;  then,  when  it  seemed  as 
if  they  would  be  run  down  and  crushed,  they  would 
give  a  joyous  whoop  and  drive  their  wicked  spears 
viciously  into  the  panting  brutes.  For  a  long  time 
the  coolness  and  cunning  of  the  Indians  kept  the 
buffaloes  running  in  a  circle,  but  as  they  seemed  to 
be  getting  away  again,  Manulito  saw  the  necessity 
of  a  bold  move,  and  called  to  his  companions, 
"  Turn  them  !  Turn  them  a  little  to  the. east !  To 
the  river !"  The  orders  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth  down  the  line ;  and,  as  all  recognized  what 
would  be  the  effect,  individual  pursuit  was  almost 
entirely  stopped,  and,  like  drilled  soldiers,  they 
strove  to  obey  orders.  There  was  a  strong  swerv 
ing  and  shying,  but,  when  the  buffaloes  saw  before 
them  an  opening,  the  leaders  darted  towards  it,  and 
the  Indians  increased  the  gap,  yelling  in  great  glee, 
for  the  buffaloes  were  now  running  straight  for  the 
river. 

The  formation  of  this  stream  was  peculiar.  At  a 
distance  it  could  not  be  seen  ;  then  its  first  appear 
ance  was  a  dark  but  narrow  seam.  Its  banks  were 
precipitous,  reaching  from  the  river-bed  to  a  height 
of  from  twenty  to  forty  feet.  It  was  very  low  at 

24* 


282  MANULITO. 

this  time  of  the  year,  being  only  from  two  to  three 
feet  in  depth,  while  the  transparency  of  the  water 
plainly  showed  the  sandy  bed.  As  the  buffaloes 
neared  this  high  bank,  the  leaders  noticed  it  and 
tried  to  shy  from  it,  but  hundreds  were  at  their 
heels,  with  noses  trailing  the  ground,  and  pressed 
those  in  advance  firmly  and  swiftly  forward  to  the 
brink  of  destruction.  Those  at  the  extreme  front 
tried  to  avoid  being  crowded  over  the  precipice, 
but  an  avalanche  of  their  wild  companions  rushed 
upon  them,  and  they  struggled  but  for  an  instant, 
then  plunged  into  the  river  below.  It  seemed  like 
a  black  and  shaggy  stream  falling  into  this  unex 
pected  abyss,  for  buffaloes  are  like  sheep,  and,  wildly 
following  their  leaders'  footsteps,  they  poured  over 
this  steep  wall  to  fall  upon  a  struggling  mass  of 
their  unfortunate  fellows.  As  they  extricated  them 
selves  from  the  dead  and  wounded,  they  followed 
the  narrow  winding  stream,  wading  slowly  down 
with  the  current,  and  their  life-blood  reddened  the 
water  as  they  were  slain  by  their  pursuers,  who  had 
congregated  on  the  bank  above  them.  This  im 
mense  slaughter  elated  the  Indians,  for,  aside  from 
the  sport  of  the  chase,  the  success  of  the  hunt 
promised  them  sufficient  meat  for  the  entire  sea 
son's  supply.  Wellington  watched  with  increased 
interest  the  different  manoeuvres  of  the  day,  and  it 
was  a  sight  he  never  forgot.  The  Indians  continued 
their  labor  until  long  past  midnight,  preserving  and 
caring  for  the  meat  and  hides  secured  during  the 


THE   CHASE.  283 

day.  They  camped  that  night  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  the  following  morning  started  for  their 
village.  It  was  a  motley  sight,  for  almost  every 
pony  was  laden  with  the  results  of  the  chase,  and 
here  and  there  some  sedate  Indian,  the  personi 
fication  of  dignity,  sat  on  a  great  heap  of  robes 
which  had  been  piled  on  his  pony's  back,  giving  it 
the  appearance  of  a  camel  with  its  great  hump. 

The  second  day  they  arrived  at  the  village,  and 
as  Wellington  sat  in  Manulito's  lodge,  he  said, — 

"  Manulito,  I  have  been  with  you  for  several  days, 
and  you  can  imagine  the  anxiety  of  my  friends,  who 
doubtless  have  given  me  up  as  dead,  or  think  me  a 
captive  without  prospect  of  release.  Out  of  regard 
for  their  anxiety  I  ought  to  return  to  them  without 
delay.  My  stay  with  you  has  been  all  my  heart 
could  have  wished.  I  have  visited  with  you,  slept 
beneath  your  blankets,  and  now  that  I  must  leave 
you,  it  will  be  with  a  sad  heart,  for  somehow  I  feel 
that  this  parting  between  you  and  me  must  be  for 
a  long,  long  time.  We  will  hope  to  meet  again, 
and  I  know  that  with  you,  as  with  me,  a  separation 
does  not  mean  a  severance  of  friendship,  but,  in 
stead,  our  absence  in  the  flesh  will  only  strengthen 
the  golden  link  of  love  which  binds  our  hearts 
together." 

"  My  brother  speaks  the  truth,"  said  Manulito, 
feelingly,  "  and  his  words  are  full  of  tenderness  and 
love  far  sweeter  than  the  voice  of  the  thrush  sing 
ing  to  his  mate.  My  brother's  visit  has  been  like 


284  MANUL1TO. 

a  dream,  too  good  to  be  true.  And  when  he  has 
gone,  Manulito  will  sit  at  night  gazing  at  the  stars, 
and  recalling  each  word,  each  look,  each  thought ; 
for  when  he  can  bring  back  these,  even  though  it 
be  as  in  a  dream,  it  will  make  the  heart  of  Manu 
lito  glad.  It  seems,"  he  continued,  thoughtfully, — 
"  it  seems  as  if  the  happy  hours  in  our  lives  are  too 
far  apart.  The  anticipation  of  their  coming  is  one 
of  our  sweetest  thoughts;  then  the  event  takes 
place,  and  in  our  happiness  we  forget  everything ; 
then  when  'tis  over  we  look  back,  craving  again 
the  anticipation  and  longing  for  what  has  been. 
So  with  my  brother's  visit.  It  will  be  the  bright 
spot  in  Manulito's  life;  and  the  prairies  and  the 
brooks,  the  mountains  and  the  rivers,  and  every 
spot  where  he  wanders,  and  sits  to  think,  or  lies 
down  to  rest,  shall  be  silent  witnesses  of  the  sweet 
thoughts  which  will  warm  his  soul  as  he  thinks  of 
the  Gray  Eagle's  visit. 

"  And  so  my  brother  must  go.  And  when  he 
does,  it  will  be  with  that  same  blessing  which  years 
ago  he  gave  to  another.  Manulito  will  not  urge 
his  brother  to  stay  longer,  but  at  his  departure  asks 
him  to  take  with  him  something  for  the  wife, 
something  for  the  children,  that  they  may  know 
that  they  still  live  in  the  heart  of  Manulito." 

"  It  would  not  be  necessary,"  replied  Wellington, 
"  to  send  presents,  or  mementos  of  any  kind  to  my 
wife  and  children  to  remind  them  of  you  or  your 
affection.  For  your  noble  deeds  have  been  so 


THE   CHASE.  285 

thoroughly  impressed   on   their  minds   that  time 
will  not  efface  them,  and  in  imagination  I  can  see 
how,  when  I  return  and  tell  them  of  the  exciting 
incidents  that  have  transpired  during  this  journey, 
their  excitement  and  alarm  will  quickly  yield  to 
softened  expressions  of  relief  when  they  find  that 
it  was  you  who  befriended  me.     But  it  is  thought 
ful  of  you,  Manulito,  to  send  testimonials  of  your 
love  to  those  who  are  nearest  and  dearest  to  me; 
and  although  a  man,  I  can  understand  a  woman's 
heart,  and  I  know  that  the  surest  way  to  win  a 
mother's  gratitude  is  to  show  kindness  and  affec 
tion  to  her  children.     Your  sending  these  presents 
to  them  will  be  greatly  appreciated,  not  so  much 
for  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  gifts,  but  because  they 
came  from  you.     I  tell  you,  Manulito,  it  is  such 
little  tokens  of  tender  affection,  or  pure  friendship, 
that  let  down  the  bars  of    our  dreary  lives  and 
permit  us  to  enjoy  a  knowledge  of  the  unselfish 
ness  of  others.     And  if  the  good  deeds  we  do  live 
after  us,  as  you  and  I  believe,  then  for  years  to 
come  this  kindly  remembrance  which  you   show 
will  be  as  a  lamp  lighted  by  yourself,  and  kept 
burning,  for  the  spark  will  be  renewed  and  the 
fiames  rekindled  by  my  children  and  grandchil 
dren.      And  as  they  see  the  mementos  of  your 
generosity,  they  will  tell  how  these  things  were 
given  to  their  grandfather,  years  and  years  ago,  by  a 
great  Indian  chief,  whose  name  was  Manulito.    It  is 
pleasant  for  us  to  think  of  this,  isn't  it,  Manulito  ?" 


286  MANULITO. 

The  Indian  had  been  listening  with  a  sad  heart 
and  head  bowed  down,  but  now  he  raised  his 
eyes,  which  glistened  with  emotion,  and  feelingly 
said, — 

"  When  the  sky  is  at  its  brightest  and  the  day 
is  in  its  greatest  beauty,  oftentimes  a  cloud  creeps 
from  the  prairie  and  hides  from  view  the  warm 
sunshine,  chilling  the  earth.  So  this  departure  of 
my  brother  touches  the  heart  of  Manulito.  The 
visit  of  the  Gray  Eagle  was  like  the  coming  of  the 
most  perfect  day,  but  now  the  dark  cloud  arises 
and  darkens  the  heart  of  Manulito.  But  when  my 
brother  says  that  these  gifts  will  be  kept  sacred 
by  his  children's  children,  he  pierces  through  the 
clouds  and  lets  a  ray  of  sunshine  appear.  It  is 
sweet  music  to  Manulito  to  hear  his  brother  speak 
as  he  has,  for  it  is  his  only  wish  that,  when  he  is 
dead,  all  who  have  known  him  will  speak  kindly 
of  him.  And  he  will  ask  of  his  brother  only  one 
thing, — that  when  he  dies,  over  his  grave  a  stone 
may  be  placed  with  simply  the  name  '  Manulito' 
cut  upon  it." 

"  I  promise,"  said  Wellington ;  "  but  I  hope  we 
will  both  live  for  many  years,  for  my  ambition  is 
far  from  being  reached,  and  you  can  do  so  much 
good  with  your  adopted  people.  I  wish  I  could 
unfold  my  plans  to  you.  I  believe  that  there  is  a 
time  in  the  life  of  every  man  which  if  properly 
improved  will  lead  him  to  prosperity  and  renown. 
I  think  that  with  me  that  time  has  arrived,  and 


THE   CHASE.  287 

I  want  to  leave  a  competency  for  my  family  and 
a  name  of  which  they  may  be  proud.  Should  I 
live " 

"  Should  you  live !"  earnestly  interrupted  Manu- 
lito.  "  May  the  Great  Spirit  give  you  many  years  in 
which  to  gratify  your  ambitions !  But  no  man  can 
tell.  Storms  and  floods,  diseases  and  death,  come 
everywhere.  My  brother"  is  mortal,  and  death 
spares  no  one." 

"  Well,"  laughingly  responded  Wellington,  "  you 
speak  the  truth,  and  I  will  take  good  care  of  my 
self  and  try  to  reach  a  good  old  age,  striving  each 
year  to  ascend  step  by  step  the  ladder  of  fame. 
But  to-morrow  I  must  return.  You  will  not  object 
to  my  leaving  then  ?" 

"  No,"  responded  Manulito.  "  To-morrow  you 
can  go,  and  Manulito  and  his  warriors  will  conduct 
you  to  your  people ;  but  to-day,  and  to-night,  my 
brother  is  still  our  guest." 

During  the  day  and  evening  Manulito  was 
busily  engaged  in  preparing  for  the  journey  of  the 
morrow,  and  Wellington  was  left  to  the  hospi 
tality  of  the  chiefs.  On  the  following  morning, 
when  the  band  was  ready  to  march,  Wellington 
bade  farewell  to  his  late  captors,  and  amid  hearty 
handshakes,  and  interpreted  good-byes,  and  invita 
tions  to  come  and  visit  them  again,  he  mounted  his 
horse.  As  he  did  he  looked  around,  and  his  ad 
miration  was  stirred  to  its  depths  at  the  appearance 
of  his  guard.  Fully  one  hundred  of  the  bravest 


288  MANULITO. 

and  finest-looking  warriors  were  under  the  com 
mand  of  Manulito.  They  were  superbly  mounted 
on  black  horses,  their  lances  all  at  the  same  up 
right  angle,  while  they  were  armed  in  addition 
with  bows  and  arrows.  Manulito  showed  his  pride 
in  this  invincible  army.  They  were  soldiers,  and 
looked  with  supreme  confidence  on  him  who  had 
never  failed  to  lead  them  to  victory.  "Wellington 
gazed  in  admiration  on  them  as  he  said,  "  With 
his  followers  Spartacus  fought  his  way  through  the 
streets  of  Capua,  and  defied  an  army  in  the  moun 
tains  of  Vesuvius,  and  the  world  never  saw  braver 
men  than  they ;  but  I  believe  this  squadron  here 
to-day  would  be  equally  invincible,  for  victory 
would  not  rest  with  their  antagonists  until  the  last 
man  was  slain." 

This  pleased  the  Indian,  and  he  said,  "  They  have 
faith  in  Manulito  as  their  leader,  and  he  has  never 
permitted  an  enemy  to  say  that  he  was  not  first 
in  battle,  for  others  shall  not  advance  before  him 
until  the  hand  that  wields  his  spear  is  powerless  in 
death.  These  warriors'  horses  are  beyond  price, 
for  they  are  all  descendants  in  some  degree  of  the 
noblest  and  swiftest  horse  that  was  ever  on  these 
plains.  Manulito  means  the  Imp  o'  Darkness." 

For  three  days  the  party  rode,  camping  wherever 
night  overtook  them.  During  the  day  Wellington 
and  Manulito  constantly  rode  side  by  side.  They 
discussed  the  problem  of  the  future  of  the  Indian 
race,  and  Manulito  agreed  with  Wellington,  that  it 


THE   CHASE.  289 

was  but  a  question  of  time  when  the  white  race 
would  obtain  possession  of  all  the  lands,  and  the 
Indians  would  be  dependent  on  the  generosity  of 
the  government  for  support. 

It  was  a  bitter  anticipation  for  Manulito,  and, 
while  admitting  its  probability,  he  hoped  he  would 
not  live  to  see  it  realized.  Anxious  as  Wellington 
was  to  return  to  his  companions,  his  pleasure  in 
doing  so  was  not  without  pain,  for  it  involved  a 
separation  from  his  best  friend.  Manulito  shared 
his  feeling,  and  at  times  they  rode  silently  along, 
each  thinking  of  their  past  and  future.  Occasion 
ally  "Wellington  assumed  an  air  of  jollity  and  burst 
into  a  soft  laugh,  and  then  as  speedily  checked 
himself,  for  he  felt  that  laughter  at  this  time  was  a 
wanton  sacrilege  to  his  actual  feelings.  These  men 
were  capable  of  enduring  suffering,  fatigue,  or 
physical  torture,  but  their  sensitive  natures  felt 
most  keenly  an  inexplicable  heaviness  of  heart 
which  seemed  at  times  almost  to  suffocate  them. 

When  they  came  in  sight  of  the  fort,  one  of 
their  party  was  sent  forward  with  a  flag  of  truce, 
and  soon  arrangements  were  made  for  Wellington 
to  leave  his  escort.  The  Indians  were  invited  to 
remain  for  a  short  time,  but  they  declined,  saying 
that  their  mission  had  been  performed,  and  they 
would  return  to  their  people.  Wellington  begged 
Manulito  to  stay  with  him,  but  he  gently  but  firmly 
refused,  saying,  "  No,  no  !  Were  Manulito  to  re 
main  the  hours  would  swiftly  pass,  and  the  bitter- 
N  t  25 


290  MANULITO. 

ness  of  our  parting  be  the  same.  Manulito  has  not 
seen  much  in  his  life  for  which  to  be  grateful,  but 
he  thanks  the  Great  Spirit  for  permitting  him  to 
see  his  brother  once  again.  He  is  prepared  to  say 
farewell  now,  and  live  the  life  the  Great  Spirit  in 
tended  for  him,  thinking  by  day  and  dreaming  by 
night  of  this  visit  of  the  Gray  Eagle.  And,  per 
haps,  some  day  Manulito  will  return  for  a  short 
time  to  see  the  friends  and  the  places  which  are  so 
dear  to  him,  for  his  heart  longs  to  behold  once 
again  the  spot  where  he  first  saw  the  light." 

"  And,"  interrupted  Wellington, "  you  will  surely 
come  to  see  me  then,  will  you  not  ?  I  will  never 
forgive  you  if  you  don't." 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  Indian.  "  Should  Manu 
lito  ever  return  to  the  place  of  his  birth,  he  will 
first  visit  those  scenes  so  dear  to  him,  in  the  bottom 
land,  on  the  prairie,  by  the  swift-running  Wapsie, 
and  then  he  will  keep  his  promise  and  seek  his 
brother." 

"  And  God  knows  how  pleased  I  will  be  to  see 
you,"  feelingly  replied  Wellington. 

"  The  time  is  gliding  by,"  spoke  Manulito,  "  and 
we  must  part,  for  the  day  is  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
soon  my  warriors  will  have  only  the  stars  to  guide 
them  on  their  way.  And  here,"  said  he,  "  is  some 
thing  for  your  wife,  my  white  sister.  Take  it  to 
her,  and  tell  her  it  comes  from  Manulito.  It  is  of 
great  value,  but  its  worth  is  not  to  be  compared  to 
the  richness  of  the  gifts  of  her  kindness,  her  love, 


THE   CHASE.  291 

her  teachings,  which  she  gave  to  Manulito.  If  the 
Great  Spirit  permits  a  man  to  have  a  guardian  angel 
on  this  earth,  then  tell  her  that  such  she  has  been  to 
her  red  brother.  Take  this  watch  and  chain,  Gray 
Eagle,  and  give  it  to  her.  It  was  given  to  Manu 
lito  by  a  miner  whose  life  he  saved,  and  he  took  it 
only  because  he  thought  some  day  he  might  send 
it  to  her. 

"  And  to  his  brother,  the  Gray  Eagle,  Manulito 
gives  these."  At  this  he  motioned  to  an  attendant, 
who  came  speedily  forward  with  a  pony  laden  with 
furs.  From  its  back  he  untied  a  great  robe,  which 
contained  war-bonnets,  arrows,  knives,  and  imple 
ments  most  valued  by  the  Indians.  "  These,"  said 
he,  "  are  for  my  brother,  and  when  he  sees  these 
robes  he  will  always  remember  that  they  were 
gained  by  Manulito's  skill ;  and  these  war-bonnets, 
knives,  and  tomahawks  belonged  to  the  enemies 
whom  Manulito  conquered.  And  these  two  shields, 
— one  of  them  my  brother  carried,  the  other  Manu 
lito,  and  the  traces  of  our  skill  are  visible  on  each 
shield.  Let  them  hang  side  by  side  on  your  wall, 
and  when  you  see  them  you  will  remember  that 
Manulito  and  the  Gray  Eagle  each  thanked  his 
God  that  he  had  not  slain  his  brother.  And  this 
broken  spear, — the  one  upon  which  you  fell  that 
clay, — hang  it  beside  the  shields.  It  is  like  our 
lives  will  be  when  old  age  will  have  broken  our 
strength. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Manulito,  a  smile  light- 


292  MANULITO. 

ing  his  face,  "  here  is  something  for  your  children." 
And,  turning,  Wellington  beheld  a  pair  of  beautiful 
ponies.  One,  a  brilliant  black,  with  a  coat  like  satin, 
pranced  and  neighed  as  if  conscious  of  its  beauty, 
and,  laying  his  hand  on  its  neck,  Manulito  said, 
"  This  one,  Gray  Eagle,  is  for  your  son.  It  is  fleet 
of  foot,  handsome  as  the  heart  of  a  boy  could  wish, 
and  wild  enough  to  please  one  who  fears  no  dan 
ger.  And  when  the  little  warrior  rides  him  through 
the  parks,  the  other  boys  will  not  be  less  jealous,  or 
he  less  happy,  when  he  tells  them  that  the  pony 
was  once  wild  on  the  prairies,  and  was  caught  by 
an  Indian  and  given  to  his  father  for  him. 

"  And  this  one,"  said  he,  and  his  eyes  grew  moist, 
— "this  one  is  for  your  little  girl,  your  sweet  Helen." 
As  he  approached  the  pony,  which  seemed  accus 
tomed  to  constant  petting,  and  was  as  playful  as  a 
kitten,  it  nibbled  at  Manulito 's  arm  until  he  satis 
fied  it  with  a  bunch  of  grass. 

Wellington  could  not  avoid  an  expression  of 
admiration,  for  the  animal  was  as  white  as  snow, 
and  this  whiteness  was  made  more  noticeable  by 
reason  of  its  great  black  eyes.  Its  mane  fell  in 
sweeping  folds,  and  the  winds  curled  it  gracefully 
far  below  its  arched  neck,  while  its  tail  fell  almost 
to  the  ground. 

"  It  pleases  Manulito,"  said  he,  "  to  send  this 
pony,  for,  like  the  softening  influence  of  the  rain 
to  the  parched  earth,  so  was  that  child's  love  to 
Manulito.  Many  times,  when  all  seemed  black  and 


THE   CHASE.  293 

dreary,  arid  he  wondered  why  he  lived,  this  little 
girl  came  and  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him 
through  the  forest  and  the  meadow,  that  they  might 
gather  flowers.  At  such  times  Manulito  forgot  his 
sadness  and  was  happy  again.  And  since  that  time 
the  blossoms  he  gathered  at  her  command  have 
always  seemed  the  sweetest  and  the  prettiest. 

"  She  loved  best  of  all  the  beautiful  lady's-slip- 
per,  which  was  to  be  found  only  on  the  hill-sides, 
hidden  in  the  recesses  of  some  shady  spot,  and, 
child  that  she  was,  it  was  to  such  places  that  her 
little  footsteps  broke  the  trail  for  Manulito  to  fol 
low.  And  although  in  the  valleys  of  California  he 
has  gathered  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  flowers  in 
the  world,  yet  none  of  them  touched  his  heart  so 
tenderly  or  seemed  to  breathe  such  sweet  perfume 
as  the  lady's-slipper  plucked  by  the  hand  of  that 
tiny  girl. 

"  And  as  we  often  see  in  flowers  something  that 
reminds  us  of  our  friends,  so  Manulito  sees  in  the 
beautiful  pond-lily  the  features  of  this  innocent 
child.  Its  snow-white  face,  like  frost  in  its  purity, 
sparkles  with  the  dew  from  heaven,  great  beads  of 
water  glisten  in  the  light  of  the  morning  sun,  and 
its  petals  stand  upright  like  spears  of  gold.  That  is 
the  flower  which  Manulito  loves  best  of  all,  because 
its  soft  whiteness  reminds  him  of  the  face  of  your 
sweet  child,  and  its  petals  are  like  the  golden  hair 
that  falls  in  ringlets  over  her  shoulders. 

"  And  .eo  this  pony  seems  like  herself,  pure  and 

25* 


294  MANUL1TO. 

spotless,  gentle  and  obedient,  one  whom  all  must 
love  and  be  proud  in  loving.  Take  it  to  her,  Gray 
Eagle,  and  with  it  the  love  of  Manulito." 

As  he  finished,  he  stepped  resolutely  up  to  Wel 
lington,  and  said,  "  Now  we  must  part.  Words 
cannot  prevent  it.  Manulito  hopes  his  brother  will 
have  a  pleasant  journey." 

It  seemed  as  if  he  wanted  to  say  more,  but  he 
only  folded  his  blanket  closer  around  his  shoulder 
and  looked  affectionately  at  Wellington. 

Wellington  seized  his  hand  and  said,  "  We  know 
and  understand  each  other,  Manulito,  and  we  can 
not  help  what  is  to  be.  May  Heaven  bless  you! 
Good-by !  Good-by !  I  must  say  farewell !  Then 
he  turned  hastily  and  walked  away ;  but  some  in 
stinct  induced  him  to  turn  again.  As  he  did  he 
saw  Manulito  standing  at  the  same  spot  as  if  in  a 
trance.  Wellington  quickly  sprang  to  him,  folded 
him  in  his  arms,  and,  as  they  embraced,  many  a 
stern  warrior  bowed  his  head,  appreciating  the 
feelings  of  these  strong  men.  A  touch  on  Manu- 
lito's  arm  by  one  of  the  warriors  electrified  both, 
and  with  their  hands  placed  fondly,  each  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  other,  their  moistened  eyes  met 
for  an  instant,  and,  with  an  affectionate  clasp  of 
the  hand,  they  simultaneously  breathed  "  good-by," 
and  parted. 


DESTINY.  295 

CHAPTER   XYI. 

DESTINY. 

"  Across  the  threshold  led, 
And  every  tear  kissed  off  as  soon  as  shed, 
His  house  she  enters,  there  to  be  a  light, 
Shining  within,  when  all  without  is  night ; 
A  guardian  angel  o'er  his  life  presiding, 
Doubling  his  pleasures,  and  his  cares  dividing." 

KOGEKS. 

ONE  can  easily  imagine  the  delight  of  Welling 
ton's  friends  because  of  his  safe  return.  They  had 
used  every  effort  to  find  him  since  his  disappear 
ance,  but  as  the  guide  reported  that  war-parties  of 
Sioux  had  been  seen  in  the  vicinity,  the  searchers 
at  last  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Wellington  had 
been  captured  by  them.  And  now  that  he  had  re 
turned,  their  joy  was  without  bounds.  He  spent 
the  greater  portion  of  the  night  in  recounting  to 
his  friends  the  episodes  that  had  happened  since  he 
left  them,  and  the  story  was  so  weird,  that  in  this 
case  truth  was  indeed  stranger  than  fiction. 

The  party  had  delayed  their  return  because  of 
the  absence  of  Wellington,  having  unanimously 
decided  that  they  would  remain  until  they  found 
definitely  what  had  become  of  him.  They  did  not 
believe  he  was  dead,  for  they  had  thoroughly 
searched  the  prairies  where  they  had  hunted,  and, 


296  MANVLITO. 

not  discovering  his  body,  ielt  positive  that  he  had 
been  captured.  This  belief  was  strengthened  when 
the  guide  found  the  spot  where  Wellington  had 
struggled  with  the  Indians.  He  then  positively 
announced  that  Wellington  had  been  captured  by 
some  roving  band,  but  who  they  were,  or  to  what 
tribe  they  belonged,  could  be  ascertained  only  by 
cautious  search,  and,  believing  that  Wellington  had 
been  captured  by  the  Sioux,  the  party  sent  their 
Bcouts  to  the  north  towards  the  lands  of  the  Da- 
kotas,  instead  of  in  a  southerly  direction,  where 
the  captors  and  captive  really  were. 

They  were  all  anxious  to  return  home,  fearing 
that  exaggerated  reports  might  precede  their  com 
ing,  and,  therefore,  on  the  following  day,  they 
started  for  their  Eastern  homes.  They  never  tired 
of  recalling  the  scenes  and  incidents  of  the  trip, 
and  especially  enjoyed  telling  of  those  times  when 
some  one,  more  unfortunate  than  his  companions, 
had  met  with  some  slight  accident, — nothing  severe, 
but  just  ludicrous  enough  to  have  its  mention  bring 
hearty  peals  of  laughter  at  the  expense  of  the  un 
fortunate,  who  had  perhaps  been  unceremoniously 
dumped  from  the  back  of  some  docile-looking  but 
very  uncertain  broncho. 

Wellington's  return  preceded  but  a  few  weeks  the 
opening  of  the  different  courts.  His  trip  had  been 
of  great  benefit  to  him  physically,  and  now  that  he 
was  to  again  assume  the  active  practice  of  law,  he 
did  it,  as  he  did  everything  else,  with  eagerness 


DESTINY.  297 

and  a  desire  to  honorably  succeed.  This  trip  to 
the  West  had  been  the  realization  of  long  pent-up 
wishes.  He  was  progressive  in  everything,  and 
one  of  his  greatest  desires  was  to  travel  and  visit 
places  renowned  for  their  romantic  beauty ;  it  did 
not  afford  him  merely  temporary  pleasure,  but 
those  scenes,  although  he  did  not  know  it  at  the 
time,  were  indelibly  impressed  on  his  mind,  and  in 
after-years,  when  making  some  of  his  most  bril 
liant  oratorical  efforts,  his  thoughts  insensibly 
drifted  towards  his  knowledge  of  nature,  and  the 
instincts  and  habits  of  birds  and  animals,  and  the 
lessons  he  learned  from  the  fields  and  woods  served 
to  make  his  comparisons  more  touching  and  more 
beautiful. 

His  success  as  a  trial  lawyer  was  what  might 
have  been  expected  of  the  man.  He  held  few 
offices,  for  his  heart  was  in  his  profession,  and  thus 
the  years  passed  by,  time  increasing  his  labors  and 
adding  to  his  reputation.  He  heard  but  seldom 
from  Manulito,  but  what  he  learned  showed  that 
the  Indian  was  the  same  self-sacrificing  man,  de 
voting  all  his  time  and  energies  towards  the  ad 
vancement  of  the  tribe  by  which  he  had  been 
adopted.  Many  years  had  flown  since  they  had 
last  met,  and  the  changes  predicted  by  "Welling 
ton  were  occurring  faster  than  he  had  anticipated. 
Great  corporations  were  reaching  out  and  securing 
belts  of  the  finest  land.  Kailroads  were  spanning 
the  continent;  and  "Wellington  had  heard  that 


298  MANVL1TO. 

surveys  had  been  made  marking  the  line  for  a 
railroad  near  the  lands  owned  by  the  Comanches 
for  generations.  This  did  not  surprise  him,  for  he 
had  long  foreseen  the  future  of  the  Indian  race 
and  the  wonderful  progress  of  the  whites. 

Wellington  had  promised  Manulito  that  he 
would  be  careful  of  himself, — a  promise  never  kept 
by  an  ambitious  man.  Those  whose  lives  are 
passed  entirely  in  mental  work,  craving  that  pro 
found  knowledge  which  alone  can  place  them  at 
the  head  of  their  profession,  forget  that  they  are 
mortal.  Their  ambitious  eyes  are  cast  towards  some 
star  which  rests  in  the  zenith  of  their  ambition. 
They  believe  that  labor  omnia  vincit,  and  believing 
this,  the  days  are  too  short  for  them,  the  nights 
are  usurped,  recreation  is  denied,  the  delicate 
chords  which  bind  their  constitutions  are  snapped, 
and  then  they  recognize  their  mortality  when  too 
late,  for  their  ambition  is  still  unsatisfied,  and 
death,  not  they,  claims  the  victory. 

For  some  time  the  friends  of  Wellington  had 
noticed  a  haggard  look  which  was  occasionally  to 
be  seen  on  his  face.  They  cautioned  him  not  to 
overwork  himself,  but  he  merely  laughed  at  their 
anxiety.  At  the  same  time  he  often  became 
fatigued  and  easily  caught  cold,  something  that 
had  never  happened  to  him  before.  His  physician 
admonished  him  to  lessen  his  work,  and  advised 
him  to  take  a  long  vacation  ;  but  Wellington  plead 
the  importance  of  his  cases,  the  impossibility  of 


DESTINY.  299 

others  attending  to  them,  and  promised  to  take  his 
much-needed  rest  the  following  year. 

One  day  an  important  trial  was  in  progress; 
"Wellington  had  acquitted  himself  with  great  bril 
liancy,  and  the  lawyers  crowded  around  him,  con 
gratulating  him  because  of  his  effort.  The  room 
seemed  unusually  close  and  warm,  and  his  face  was 
flushed.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  head, 
asked  for  a  drink  of  water,  then,  before  they  could 
bring  it  to  him,  sank  fainting  into  a  chair.  They 
carried  him  to  a  window,  bathed  his  temples,  and 
when  he  returned  to  consciousness,  he  smiled 
again,  saying,  "I  don't  feel  very  well;  perhaps  I 
had  better  go  home  for  a  little  while.  Accord 
ingly  they  took  him  home,  and  when  his  alarmed 
wife  met  them  at  the  door,  he  gave  her  an  affec 
tionate  glance,  saying,  "It's  nothing;  I  will  visit 
with  you  for  a  few  days,  for  I  am  so  tired."  The 
family  physician  was  called,  and  said,  "  He  is  worn 
out.  He  must  have  absolute  rest."  And  then 
"Wellington  was  put  to  bed.  As  his  wife  ten 
derly  tucked  the  coverlets  around  him,  he  wearily 
dropped  his  hand,  and  said,  "  Oh,  how  good  this 
seems !"  Then,  while  she  softly  stroked  his  hand, 
he,  like  a  tired  child,  fell  asleep. 

She  had  for  a  long  time  dreaded  that  something 
was  to  happen,  and  a  sad  feeling  at  times  possessed 
her,  a  feeling  which  cast  a  heavy  burden  of  sorrow 
upon  her,  something  she  could  not  define,  but 
which  frequently  depressed  her  in  spirits,  and  still 


300  MANULITO. 

she  could  not  tell  why.  She  felt  her  sorrow  more 
keenly  now,  for  it  flashed  upon  her  mind  that  this 
sickness  of  her  husband  was  the  fulfilment  of  the 
forebodings  which  had  so  long  threatened  her. 
And  now  that  she  was  to  face  the  event  which 
had  so  continuously  come  like  an  apparition  before 
her,  this  frail  woman,  tender,  loving,  confiding 
by  nature,  modest,  unassuming,  and  timid  in  dis 
position,  assumed  her  true  character  and  showed 
herself  as  she  really  was, — a  noble  wife  and  mother, 
possessed  of  all  those  attributes  that  have  made 
men  better  and  that  have  blessed  the  world. 

The  tears  which  flowed  so  copiously  came  from 
the  spring  of  her  affection,  and  as  she  sat  and 
fondled  the  hand  of  the  man  whose  every  ambi 
tion  found  sweet  accord  with  her  own,  her  tears 
ceased  their  flowing ;  she  breathed  a  long  sad  sigh, 
and  then,  as  if  some  secret  resolution  had  been 
made,  she  moved  with  that  soft  grace  which  only 
love  could  make,  and  her  life  was  devoted  to  her 
husband.  She  anticipated  everything.  If  his  heart 
craved  something,  it  seemed  as  if  some  angel 
secretly  conveyed  to  her  the  intelligence,  for  with 
out  disclosing  his  desire  his  wish  was  gratified. 
Like  all  men  who  have  been  devotees  of  Nature, 
or  who  are  of  culture  and  refinement,  Wellington 
loved  flowers.  It  was  not  possible  to  supply  his 
sick-room  with  those  he  had  so  many  times  gath 
ered  in  their  wild  state;  but  his  devoted  wife 
supplied  the  want,  for  the  room  was  constantly 


DESTINY.  301 

beautified  with  handsome  roses,  whose  delicate 
perfume  was  a  constant  gratification  to  the  sick 
one. 

The  days  had  glided  into  weeks,  and  still  "Wel 
lington  was  confined  to  his  bed.  He  had  treated 
his  sickness  in  a  jesting  manner,  and  had  fre 
quently  set  the  day  when  he  would  be  at  his  office, 
but  when  that  day  came,  the  sick-room  still  claimed 
him.  Then  he  would  seem  to  improve,  and  the 
happiness  of  the  household  was  unlimited,  but  the 
improvement  would  be  only  temporary,  and  built 
up  hopes  only  to  cruelly  dash  them  away,  leaving 
their  sorrow  greater  than  ever.  The  cold  had  de 
veloped  into  pneumonia,  and  all  realized  his  danger. 
He  had  suffered  much  through  the  day,  was  at 
times  delirious,  and  at  night  his  condition  was  still 
more  critical.  As  his  mind  wandered,  his  wife  and 
children  were  told  of  his  danger.  At  last  the  crisis 
was  passed,  and  he  lay  dying  before  them.  At 
times  he  was  conscious,  and  then  he  calmly  begged 
them  not  to  weep  for  him,  and  smiled  in  sweet 
affection  at  his  wife  and  children  who  sat  near  him. 
His  voice  seemed  unusually  strong,  and  he  spoke 
of  dying  as  if  it  was  but  a  pleasant  journey.  His 
conscious  moments  came  less  often,  and  in  his 
delirium  his  thoughts  strayed  back  to  incidents 
that  had  happened  in  his  early  life,  and  when  he 
spoke  of  them,  his  eyes  flashed  or  softened  and 
his  face  expressed  his  rapidly-changing  thoughts. 
Finally  he  dropped  into  a  peaceful  sleep,  propped 

26 


302  MANULITO. 

up  with  pillows,  while  his  wife  also  supported  him 
with  her  arm. 

Suddenly  he  awakened,  and  with  a  startled  ex 
pression  exclaimed,  "What's  that?  Somebody 
fired  at  me !  Oh,  no,  he  wouldn't  do  that,  for  I 
gave  him  the  gun."  Then  he  sadly  said,  "  Let 
Hector  loose ;  he  will  come  to  me.  Yes  !  Manulito, 
I  do  forgive  you  fully  and  freely.  Shoot  the  buck, 

Kirtley!  Shoot  the I  respect  every  man's 

religion — I And  I  would  like  to  have  you  tell 

Manulito  of "  Then  he  smiled  contemptuously 

and  said,  "  Very  well,  if  he  is  afraid  to  show  his 

face,  it  makes "  His  thoughts  were  fleeting 

fast,  as  he  continued,  "  If  the  court  please — I  wish 

to "  Then,  as  if  astonished,  he  exclaimed, 

"My  God,  it's  Manulito!"  He  was  growing 
weaker.  His  words  dragged.  There  came  a  flash 
of  consciousness;  he  realized  his  condition,  and 
calmly  whispered  good-by  to  his  wife. 

Then  his  eyes  were  centred  on  Manulito's  pic 
ture  which  had  been  brought  into  the  room.  He 
gazed  at  it  intently,  seemingly  lost  to  his  sur 
roundings,  shaded  his  eyes  as  if  to  obtain  a  better 
view,  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  said, — 

"  Perhaps  with  your  spirit  in  the  land  of  your 
God  you  can  look  down  and  see  me  weep  for 
you — for  I  have  sometimes  wondered  if  those  in 
heaven — if — those — in — heav — if — those — in — 

heaven "  His  voice  grew  weaker,  and  he 

clutched  nervously  at  his  throat;  then  hesitatingly 


DESTINY.  303 

spoke,  "  Yes  —  Manulito  — I  — forgive  —  you.  I — 
have — forgiven " 

Giving  his  wife  a  last  fond  look,  he  breathed  a 
long  deep  sigh.  His  head  sank  wearily  on  her 
shoulder.  They  listened  for  his  breathing,  but 
nothing  was  heard  but  the  sobbing  of  the  heart 
broken  family.  The  physician  tenderly  touched 
the  weeping  woman,  but  she  knew  it  all, — the 
noble  husband,  the  kind  and  generous  father,  was 
dead. 

When  in  health,  "Wellington  had  often  told 
where  he  wished  to  be  laid  to  rest  when  dead.  His 
wishes  were  adhered  to,  and  his  body  was  interred 
near  the  scenes  of  his  early  manhood,  for  the  suc 
cesses  of  his  later  years  had  not  weaned  him  from 
the  places  which  former  times  had  made  so  dear  to 
him. 

All  the  honors  that  could  have  been  accorded  a 
man  of  his  prominence  in  life  were  shown  him  at 
his  death.  There  is  a  sweet  satisfaction  to  every 
honorable  man,  who  belongs  to  some  civic,*  mili 
tary,  or  secret  society,  in  feeling,  when  he  is  sum 
moned  to  cast  aside  the  garments  of  mortality, 
that  his  life  has  been  a  lesson  to  those  with  whom 
he  has  been  associated  as  a  friend  and  a  brother, 
and  that  there  has  been  something  in  his  life 
worthy  of  emulation. 

There  is  no  fraternity  which  holds  its  honored 
members  by  stronger  ties  of  affection  than  the  legal 
profession.  So  it  was  that,  in  recollection  of  Wei- 


304  MANULITO. 

lington's  life,  from  the  courts  of  limited  jurisdic 
tion  to  those  of  last  resort  memorials  were  passed 
and  spread  upon  the  records  eulogistic  of  the  man. 
For  it  was  truthfully  said  of  him,  "None  knew 
him  but  to  love  him,  and  those  who  knew  him 
best  loved  him  most." 

Taken  away  as  he  was,  just  after  the  summer  of 
his  life  had  past,  and  when  the  autumn-time  prom 
ised  so  rich  a  harvest  after  his  years  of  labor,  it 
brought  forcibly  to  mind  that — 

"  Leaves  have  their  time  to  fall, 

And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  North  wind's  breath, 
And  stars  to  set,  but  all — 
Thou  hast  all  seasons  for  thine  own,  O  Death !" 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


"  Oh !  couldst  thou  but  know 
With  what  a  deep  devotedness  of  woe 
I  wept  thy  absence — o'er  and  o'er  again 
Thinking  of  thee,  still  thee,  till  thought  grew  pain, 
And  memory,  like  a  drop  that,  night  and  day, 
Falls  cold  and  ceaseless,  wore  my  heart  away  1" 

MOORE. 

A  FEW  years  had  passed  since  the  death  of  Wel 
lington,  and  the  recital  of  our  romance  carries  us 
back  to  the  scenes  where  he  and  Maimlito  spent  so 
many  happy  days. 


THE   WANDERER'S  RETURN.  305 

Time  had  wrought  wonderful  changes  in  the 
vicinity,  and  wild  forests  and  unbroken  prairies 
had  given  place  to  cultivated  fields.  The  ox-teams 
and  the  prairie  "  schooners"  were  things  of  the 
past,  and  railroads  traversed  the  land  from  ocean 
to  ocean.  The  village  where  Wellington  first  prac 
tised  law  had  grown  to  quite  a  little  city,  and 
rejoiced  in  all  the  modern  improvements. 

As  the  train  came  in  one  summer  afternoon, 
there  was  one  among  the  passengers  who  by  his 
dress  and  bearing,  as  well  as  his  features,  com 
manded  admiration.  He  was  advanced  in  years, 
and  the  strong  form,  the  dignified  walk  the  wealth 
of  iron-gray  hair  which  swept  over  his  shoulders, 
or  was  carelessly  tossed  by  the  winds,  gave  addi 
tional  interest  to  this  personage. 

The  crowd  looked  at  him  with  undisguised  curi- 

O 

osity,  but  he  heeded  them  not,  and  alighting  from 
the  train,  stopped  for  a  moment  as  if  in  uncertainty, 
and  then,  having  taken  his  bearings  from  the  sun 
in  the  western  sky,  started  in  a  southerly  direction. 
His  tread  was  as  elastic  as  that  of  a  youth.  His 
advanced  years  seemed  to  have  been  cast  aside, 
for,  buoyed  up  by  joyous  anticipations,  he  walked 
briskly  forward,  occasionally  pausing  as  if  to  drink 
in  the  scenery  which  surrounded  him.  "  How 
sweet  the  air !"  he  said.  "  These  hills  seem  as  they 
did  years  ago,  except  that  the  forests  are  not  so 
dense  as  then.  And  there,  away  off  to  the  south, 
the  sky  stoops  down  and  softly  touches  the  tops  of 

u  26* 


306  MANUL1TO. 

the  trees  at  the  Wapsie  or  loses  itself  in  the  bluffs 
across  the  stream. 

"  The  night  is  hours  away,  and  the  heart  of 
Manulito  directs  him  to  the  spot  where  he  saved 
the  life  of  his  brother.  That  was  years  ago, — years 
in  time  but  only  hours  in  memory,  for  the  earth, 
the  sky,  and  the  forest  are  the  same.  But  the 
winds  bring  sweeter  fragrance  from  the  meadows 
to-day,  perhaps  because  it  is  the  summer-time,  or 
perhaps  because  the  heart  of  Manulito  is  so  glad 
to  be  here  again." 

He  entered  the  bottom-land,  neared  the  river 
which  he  knew  so  well,  and  soon  emerged  through 
the  timber  and  stood  at  the  water's  edge, — at  the 
precise  point  where  Wellington  had  had  the 
struggle  with  the  buck.  It  seemed  to  bring  to  him 
a  flood  of  recollections,  for  he  stood  for  a  few 
moments  in  deepest  thought.  "  Oh,  how  good  it 
is  to  be  home  again !  Home  ?"  said  he  in  a  doubt 
ing  manner.  "  Yes,  home  again ;  this  is  the  home 
of  Manulito,  for  'twas  here  he  spent  his  childhood 
days  and  passed  the  happiest  hours  of  his  life. 
Manulito  has  said  he  had  no  home,  but  his  heart 
tells  him  of  his  mistake,  for  now  that  he  has  re 
turned,  he  sees  that  here  and  on  the  banks  of  the 
Mississippi  are  the  dearest  spots  in  all  the  world  to 
him.  Years  ago,  Manulito  thought  he  would  not 
care  to  return  to  these  places  again,  but  he  has 
changed,  for  when  once  the  thought  came  to  him, 
his  love  for  these  well-remembered  spots  burned  like 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  307 

fire  into  his  heart.  He  could  think  of  nothing 
else  by  day,  and  at  night  his  wandering  dreams 
brought  him  here,  until  the  hills  and  streams,  the 
prairies  and  the  forests,  the  secret  caves,  and  each 
familiar  place,  seemed  to  come  before  his  sight, 
and  the  stars  beckoned  and  the  winds  whispered 
for  him  to  return  again  to  the  old  home  of  his 
brother. 

"  And  stronger  than  all  these  was  the  desire  to 
see  his  brother,  for  years  have  passed  since  last  we 
met.  Manulito  will  keep  his  promise  and  go  to 
see  him,  and  then  the  Gray  Eagle  will  show  Manu 
lito  his  home,  his  family,  and  his  people,  and  the 
picture  of  which  his  brother  spoke.  And  when 
the  friends  of  the  Gray  Eagle  come,"  he  will  say  to 
them,  *  This  is  my  red  brother, — this  is  Manulito, 
of  whom  you  have  heard  me  speak.'  They  will 
be  glad  to  see  Manulito  because  he  is  the  brother 
of  the  Gray  Eagle.  And  the  boy,  now  a  grown 
man,  and  the  girl,  now  a  woman,  they  will  talk  to 
Manulito.  Oh !"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  heart  of 
Manulito  is  bursting  with  joy,  for  he  sees  so  much 
happiness  in  store  for  him." 

The  sun  was  going  down.  He  noticed  it,  and 
said,  "  The  years  are  swept  aside  by  the  setting  sun, 
for  it  goes  to  rest  in  the  same  spot,  and  casting  the 
same  colors,  that  it  did  the  night  Manulito  saved 
his  brother.  And  now  Manulito  will  go  to  the 
place  where,  years  ago,  the  Gray  Beard  lived.  No 
doubt  he  is  dead,  for  he  was  an  old  man  then.  His 


308  MANULITO. 

log  cabin  has  doubtless  been  torn  down,  and  his 
children  will  have  built  a  larger  home,  but  Manu- 
lito  will  go,  for  the  Gray  Beard  once  thought 
kindly  of  him," 

As  he  stepped  from  the  forest  into  the  road, 
where  he  could  obtain  a  clear  view,  he  stopped  in 
astonishment,  for  there,  on  the  hill-side,  he  saw 
the  identical  cabin  he  knew  so  well.  It  was  un 
changed;  the  great  hickory-tree  shaded  it  as  of 
old,  while  the  ivy  clung  to  its  sides  as  it  did  when 
Manulito  was  a  young  man.  He  stopped,  placed 
his  hand  over  his  heart,  and  involuntarily  raised 
his  eyes  in  thankfulness  at  the  sight.  It  was  just 
dusk  as  he  reached  the  door.  He  hoped  the  place 
had  not  changed  hands,  and  stood  for  a  brief  time 
thinking  what  he  should  do  or  say.  As  he 
knocked  he  heard  a  shuffling  sound,  and  then,  if  a 
spectre  had  arisen  from  the  grave  he  would  not 
have  been  more  surprised,  for  the  door  opened, 
and  Kirtley  stood  before  him.  He  did  not  recog 
nize  Manulito,  but  called  to  the  boys, — 

"  Here,  you  fellers,  whar  be  ye  ?  Git  a  light. 
Thar's  a  stranger  here,  an'  my  ole  eyes  ain't  no 
good  'thout  a  light  this  time  o'  day.  Come  in ! 
come  in !" 

At  this  Manulito  entered  the  cabin  and  seated 
himself,  trying  to  recover  from  his  surprise,  and 
wondering  if  Kirtley  would  recognize  him.  As 
the  light  was  brought  in,  Kirtley  scanned  him 
closely,  but  his  eyesight  had  failed  to  such  an  ex- 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.        3Q9 

tent  that  he  merely  saw  that  his  caller  was  an 
Indian.  At  this  discovery,  he  said, — 

"  Wall,  I'll  be  gol  darned  ef  it  ain't  an  Injun !" 

Manulito  could  not  help  smiling,  for  he  well  re 
membered  the  farmer's  opinion  of  Indians.  He 
appeared  to  be  much  the  same  Kirtley  as  of  old, 
except  that  his  extreme  age  had  deepened  the 
seams  on  his  face,  and  his  once  strong  frame  was 
but  a  feeble  semblance  of  its  former  self.  His  hair 
and  whiskers  were  as  white  as  snow,  but  his  inde 
pendence  was  as  marked  as  ever.  Staring  at  his 
visitor,  he  spoke  as  if  to  himself, — 

"  Wall !  wall !  An  Injun  here  at  this  time !  Hun 
gry,  no  doubt,  penniless,  an'  beggin'  fur  a  livin'  I" 

Addressing  his  conversation  directly  to  his 
visitor,  he  said, — 

"  Be  yer  hungry  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Wall,  now,  thet  seems  good  ter  hear  an  Injun 
speak  United  States  in  thet  way,  an'  not  grunt 
an  answer.  Do  yer  expect  ter  stay  here  ter- 
night?" 

"Yes." 

"  Wall,  thet  settles  it;  an'  while  I  hain't  no  love 
fur  your  race,  an'  never  seed  but  one  thet  was  half 
way  decent  'cordiri'  ter  my  notion,  at  the  same  time 
yer  kin  stay." 

At  this  moment  Manulito's  supper  was  brought 
to  him.  He  sat  where  the  light  shone  on  his  face, 
and  as  he  ate,  he  expected  that  each  moment 


310  MANULITO. 

would  disclose  his  identity,  for  Kirtley  was  very 
inquisitive  both  in  words  and  glances. 

"  Must  have  had  quite  a  tramp,"  said  he,  "  the 
way  yer  gettin'  outside  thet  grub.  Don't  live  'bout 
these  parts,  do  yer  ?" 

Manulito  smiled,  and  said,  "  No." 

"  No  ?  I  thought  as  much.  Come  from  out  West 
perhaps,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,"  responded  Manulito. 

"Yes?  Wall,  now,  as  Bill  used  ter  say,  yer 
comin'  in  with  yer  rebuttal.  Ever  been  in  these 
parts  afore?" 

"Yes." 

"  Yes  ?  The  devil  yer  say !"  And  he  drew  his 
chair  nearer  his  visitor.  "Been  here  afore,  eh? 
How  long  ago  ?" 

"  About  thirty  years." 

"  About  thirty  years,"  said  Kirtley,  musingly.  "  I 
come  here  nigh  forty  years  ago,  an'  I  was  here  at 
the  time  yer  say.  Say,  just  begin  at  my  feet  an' 
foller  the  trail  ter  my  face,  an'  tell  me  if  yer  ever 
seed  me  afore  ?  All  Injuns  look  alike  ter  me,  an' 
mebbe  thet's  why  I  can't  place  yer." 

"  Yes,"  responded  Manulito.  "  At  one  time  you 
knew  me  well ;  you  were  my  friend." 

As  he  said  this,  Kirtley  opened  his  mouth  in 
astonishment  and  stared  at  the  speaker. 

"  I  knowed  yer  well  ?"  said  he,  incredulously. 
"  I  knowed  yer  well  ?  Where  did  yer  ever  see 
me?" 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  31 1 

"Listen  and  you  shall  hear.  Once,  when  the 
buck  was  going  to  strike  him  you  loved  better 
than  a  son.  Once,  when  at  the  village,  you  gave 

me  control  of  your  horse.  Once,  when "  But 

he  did  not  have  time  to  complete  his  sentence,  for 
the  old  man  tottered  to  him,  placed  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  while  his  voice  shook  with  emotion  as  he 
said, — 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  trifle  with  me !  I'm  an  old 
man,  nigh  eighty-five,  an'  I  don't  want  ter  be  de 
ceived." 

Manulito  rose  and  grasped  his  hand,  saying, 
"  You  are  the  Gray  Beard,  and  before  you  stands 
Manulito,  who  has  returned  after  an  absence  of 
many  years  to  visit  his  old  home,  to  see  his  old 
friends." 

At  this  Kirtley  seated  himself,  and  with  childish 
fervor  exclaimed,  "  Wall,  I'll  be  blowed  ef  this 
ain't  ahead  o'  my  time !  So  it's  you,  is  it  ?  "Wall, 
but  I'm  powerful  glad  ter  see  yer!  But  I'll  tell 
yer,  you  '11  find  a  heap  o'  changes  here, — most  the 
old  timers  dead  or  moved  away.  Goin'  ter  stay 
long  'bout  here  ?" 

"  Only  a  few  days,"  responded  the  Indian.  "  And 
then,  after  Manulito  has  visited  these  places  so  well 
known  to  him  years  ago,  he  will  continue  his 
journey  and  seek  his  brother " 

"  Say  that  last  ag'in.  I  don't  know  thet  I  j$s' 
caught  wot  yer  said." 

"  Manulito  said  he  would  seek  his  brother." 


312  MANUL1TO. 

"  Yer  brother !  Where  ?"  asked  Kirtley,  in  sur 
prise. 

"  Where  ?  Where  but  in  the  city,  which  is  his 
home.  For  Manulito  has  promised  to  visit  him 
some  day,  and  now  the  time  is  near,  and  Manulito's 
heart  beats  with  continued  joy,  and  he  counts  the 
days  and  even  the  hours  before  he  will  see  the 
Gray  Eagle  again." 

Kirtley  had  turned  his  face  from  the  light,  and 
exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Lord,  this  is  awful !  I  s'posed  he 
knowed  it!" 

But  Manulito  continued :  "  And  when  he  goes, 
he  will  call  just  in  the  early  evening  at  the  home 
of  his  brother,  and  perhaps  he  may  be  permitted 
to  look  in  and  see  him  and  all  those  so  dear  to 
him  sitting  by  the  grate  fire,  reading,  or  perhaps 
thinking  of  the  war  chief,  from  whom  they  have 
not  heard  for  years." 

"  Stop  right  thar !"  interrupted  Kirtley.  "  How 

long  since  yer  heard  from — from "  His  voice 

seemed  to  fail  him,  but  giving  a  great  gulp,  he 
continued :  "  Yer  know  who  I  mean." 

"  How  long  ?"  repeated  Manulito,  meditatively. 
"  About  three  years." 

"  Three  years  ?  And  ain't  yer  heerd  from  none 
ov  'em  fur  three  years  ?" 

"  No ;  not  for  three  years." 

«'  Oh,  Lord !"  sighed  the  old  man ;  « then  he  don't 
know  it !" 

"  And  then,"  continued  the  Indian, "  when  Manu- 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  313 

lito  steps  to  the  door  and  it  is  opened,— just  as  the 
Gray  Beard  opened  his  door  this  night, — and  the 
soft  light  shines  out,  my  brother  will  spring  to  meet 
me,  saying,  '  Here  is  Manulito ;'  and  then  he  will 
take  me  in  his  arms,  just  as  once,  on  the  prairie,  I 
took  him  in  mine,  and  then " 

He  did  not  finish  his  speech,  for  Kirtley  sat  with 
bowed  head,  sobbing  like  a  child.  The  Indian 
approached  the  old  man,  and  stood  waiting  for 
him  to  speak;  but,  as  he  did  not,  Manulito 
said, — 

"  The  Gray  Beard  is  tired,  and  the  heart  of 
Manulito  is  sad,  for  he  thinks  he  has  said  some 
thing  to  offend  him,  but  what  it  is  he  cannot  recall, 
for,  as  the  Great  Spirit  is  his  judge,  he  did  not 
intend  to  wound  the  man  whose  guest  he  is." 

"  Oh,  no,  yer  hain't  offended  me, — but — but — 
three  years  air  a  long  time,  yer  know ;  an'  these 
times,  thar's  a  heap  o'  things  might  happen. 
Banks  fail,  an' " 

"  Manulito  understands :  his  brother  has  been 
unfortunate  and  lost  all.  So  much  the  better,  for 
Manulito  has  lands,  and  they  will  be  given  to  his 
brother.  Does  he  want  riches  ?  Then  he  shall  have 
wealth  until  his  heart  is  satisfied,  for  once  when  the 
mountain  storm  raged  its  fiercest,  Manulito  sought 
refuge  in  the  canons ;  the  earth  trembled  with  the 
violence  of  the  storm ;  the  floods  rushed  down  the 
mountain-sides,  leaving  the  rocks  at  the  feet  of 
Manulito ;  and  when  the  storm  had  ceased,  and  the 
o  27 


314  MANULITO. 

waters  had  fallen,  the  rocks  were  traced  with  ledges 
of  gold.  No  white  man  knows  the  spot,  but  Manu- 
lito  will  guide  his  brother  to  the  place  by  night,  and 
when  the  morning  sun  peers  over  the  mountain, 
the  gold  will  glisten  in  its  light,  and  he  will  say, 
'  This  is  Manulito's,  and  what  is  Manulito's  is  his 
brother's !' " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  responded  the  old  man,  "yer  intend 
all  right, — yer  intend  all  right ;  but  there  air  other 
things  in  this  world  wuss  than  losin'  prop'ty, — 
sickness,  fur  instance,  an' — an' " 

"  Death,"  whispered  Manulito,  as  if  horrified  at 
the  mention  of  it. 

"  Yes,  death,"  responded  Kirtley. 

"  My  poor  dear  brother !  the  heart  of  Manulito 
pities  the  Gray  Eagle !  And  when  was  it  ?" 

"  A  year  ago,"  said  Kirtley. 

"His  boy?" 

"  No,"  responded  Kirtley. 

"His  girl?" 

"No." 

"  Then  it  was  his  dear  wife,  the  noblest  woman 
that  ever " 

"  No,  'twant  his  wife." 

"  What !"  ejaculated  Manulito,  as  if  a  sting  had 
penetrated  his  heart.  And  seizing  Kirtley  by  the 
shoulder,  he  hissed, — 

"  A  death  in  his  family — and  not  his  boy  ?  his 
girl  ?  his  wife  ?  Then  it  must  be — oh,  God !  my 
brother!"  And  he  stood  trembling  like  a  strong 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN.  315 

tree  in  a  storm,  then,  with  a  piteous  moan,  sank 
unconscious  into  a  chair. 

Poor  EIrtley  was  wild  with  grief  and  piteously 
begged  him  not  to  take  it  so  to  heart.  He  dropped 
on  his  knees  before  the  Indian,  rubbed  his  hands, 
and  pleaded  with  him  not  to  give  way  to  his  grief. 

As  Manulito  opened  his  eyes  and  beheld  the  old 
man  kneeling  before  him,  he  looked  intently  at 
him,  and  softly  said, — 

"  And  so  Manulito's  brother  is  dead !"  and  then 
he  closed  his  eyes  again.  "  Dead  ?  Oh,  that  is  a 
bitter  word  to  speak  of  him  whom  Manulito  loved 
so  much !  And  now  the  sweet  dreams  of  days  and 
nights,  of  months  and  years,  are  brushed  aside. 
The  star  in  the  heaven  of  Manulito's  life  is  set,  for 
he  whom  he  longed  to  see  is  no  more." 

He  sat  for  a  long  time  as  if  in  a  dream,  and 
then,  turning  to  Kirtley,  he  said, — 

"  Tears  soften  the  sorrow  of  those  who  suffer, 
but  Manulito  cannot  weep.  'Tis  said  the  Great 
Spirit  does  all  things  for  the  best,  but  Manulito  re 
grets  that  he  lived  to  see  this  day."  And  then  he 
sat  and  calmly  listened  to  Kirtley's  account  of  the 
sickness  and  death  of  Wellington. 

All  night  he  paced  the  floor,  and  when  in  the 
morning  they  invited  him  to  stay  and  insisted  on 
his  remaining  with  them,  he  replied,  "  Manulito 
came  to  fulfil  his  promise,  to  seek  his  brother  at 
his  home.  He  will  keep  his  word,  for  he  will  visit 
his  brother's  grave." 


316  MANULITO. 

When  breakfast  was  called,  Kirtley  said,  "  Come, 
Manulito.  Come,  old  friend,  yer  must  eat  some- 
thin'.  Goin'  on  an  empty  stomach  won't  help 
matters." 

The  Indian  tried  to  obey,  then  said,  "  Manulito 
cannot  eat.  It  is  his  soul,  and  not  his  body,  that 
cries  for  food." 

"  Wall,"  said  Kirtley,  "  s'pose  yer  want  ter  ketch 
the  fust  train  ?" 

"  No,"  responded  Manulito. 

"  Thet's  right !  thet's  right !  Ye're  like  me,— 
ain't  got  no  use  fur  trains.  I'll  hev  the  boys  hitch 
up  an'  drive  over." 

"  No ;  Manulito  will  walk." 

"  Walk  ?"  exclaimed  Kirtley  in  surprise.  "  Walk  ? 
Yer  ain't  goin'  ter  do  no  sech  thing.  Walk? 
Thunder  an'  lightriin',  man,  it's  nigh  on  ter  twenty 
mile." 

"And  if  it  was  forty,  what  of  it?  From  day 
light  till  darkness  Manulito  has  walked,  tiring  out 
many  horses.  He  has  not  become  so  old  that  he 
is  weak.  He  knows  the  spot  he  seeks,  and  the 
day  will  give  him  time  to  think.  To  think  ?  Oh, 
that  Manulito  were  like  a  tree  or  a  plant,  that  lives, 
but  cannot  think,  for  to  think  is  to  suffer !" 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  arrived  at  the  cemetery, 
and  gently  lifting  the  latch  of  the  gate,  he  softly 
let  it  fall  again,  as  if  he  feared  he  might  disturb 
those  resting  so  near  him.  Slowly  he  wended  his 
way,  until  his  shadow  darkened  the  turf  where  the 


THE  WANDERERS  RETURN.  317 

old  sexton  on  bended  knees  was  using  the  sickle. 
The  good  old  man  looked  up,  and  then  dropped 
his  sickle  in  surprise  when  he  saw  an  Indian.  He 
noticed  Manulito  scanning  the  different  stones,  and 
said,  "  Can  I  be  of  service  to  you  ?" 

"Yes;  Manulito  is  looking  for  his  brother's 
grave." 

"  Your  brother's  grave  ?  Surely,  my  good  man, 
you  are  being  deceived  by  some  one.  Your  brother 
isn't  buried  here.  I  have  been  sexton  here  for 
thirty  years,  and  to  my  knowledge  there  has  never 
been  an  Indian  buried  here." 

"  Manulito's  brother  was  a  white  man." 

"  A  white  man  ?  Oh ! — ah !—  yes — I  see :  a  half- 
brother,  I  suppose." 

"  No !"  said  Manulito,  indignantly.  "  He  was  my 
brother  because  he  was  my  best  friend ;  because  he 
was  good  to  me  and  true  to  me,  and  because  I 
loved  him  better  than  all  the  world." 

"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon,  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your 
feelings.  Do  you  remember  his  name  ?" 

"  Remember  his  name  !  Remember  his  name, 
whose  looks  and  words  and  thoughts  are  part  of 
Manulito's  existence !  Do  you  remember  your 
son's  name,  your  mother's,  your  own?  Yet  you 
will  forget  them  all  before  Manulito  forgets  the 
name  of  Wellington." 

"  What !"  said  the  sexton,  in  surprise ;  "  Judge 
Wellington?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Manulito. 
27* 


318  MANULITO. 

"  Right  over  yonder,  on  the  brow  of  that  hill, — 
a  big  square  monument, — you  will  find  it  all  right." 
As  Manulito  started  in  the  direction  pointed,  the 
sexton  continued  in  a  low  voice :  "  That  must  be 
the  Indian  I  heard  of." 

When  Manulito  first  saw  the  monument,  he 
quickened  his  steps,  read  the  inscription,  and  then, 
sinking  on  his  knees,  said,  "  And  this  is  his  grave." 
Then  he  knelt  for  a  long  time  in  silent  grief. 

Wellington  was  as  much  a  child  of  nature  as 
Manulito.  He  loved  to  wander  over  the  hills  and 
through  the  shadowy  glens,  and  his  mind  was  in 
the  sweetest  communion  with  their  quiet  and  soli 
tude.  As  Manulito  stood  at  his  grave  that  after 
noon,  a  panorama  of  varied  beauty  lay  stretched 
before  him.  Far  to  the  south  the  spires  and  lofty 
buildings  of  an  active  city  could  be  seen ;  to  the 
west,  a  continuation  of  rolling  hills,  dotted  here 
and  there  with  little  bunches  of  trees,  farm-houses, 
and  cattle  quietly  feeding  on  the  hill-side ;  to  the 
north,  a  solid  body  of  ancient  oak-trees  defying 
the  eye  to  penetrate  it;  far  to  the  east,  overlook 
ing  the  nearer  bluffs,  one  saw  a  valley  of  green, 
threaded  here  and  there  by  the  silvery  creeks  and 
streams  that  meandered  through  it ;  while  at  his 
feet  the  Mississippi  River  rolled  along  in  circling 
eddies  or  seemed  as  calm  as  a  breathless  night, 
while  its  surface  was  as  polished  glass.  The  dew 
of  evening  had  begun  to  fall,  and  carried  to  Manu 
lito  the  sweet  incense  of  new-mown  hay,  which  lay 


THE  WANDERERS  RETURN.  319 

in  rows  in  an  adjacent  field.  The  birds  were  sing 
ing  their  evening  songs  as  he  stooped  and  picked 
from  the  grave  a  clover  blossom  and  a  stem  bear 
ing  four  leaves,  emblematic  of  good  luck,  and 
bringing  to  completion  any  wish  of  its'  finder. 
Raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  he  said, — 

"  Manulito  believes  as  his  brother  did.  Oh,  may 
the  Great  Spirit  pity  him,  and  here  at  this  time 
grant  his  prayer!  May  the  window  of  heaven 
open,  that  his  dear  dead  brother  may  see  him 
weeping  at  his  grave,  for  Manulito  believes  that 
those  in  heaven  are  permitted  to  look  down  on 
earth  and  see  those  they  love  weeping  at  their 
graves !" 

Darkness  was  spreading  over  the  world.  The 
birds  had  gone  to  rest, — all  except  one  mourning 
dove,  which  cooed  its  plaintive  song  as  if  its  sad 
notes  would  heal  the  broken  heart.  The  crickets 
chirped  in  the  meadows.  The  awakened  owl 
hooted  his  thrilling  cry.  The  stars  glittered  in  the 
sky.  But  Manulito  was  on  bended  knees  at  the 
grave. 

He  took  the  clover-leaf  and  some  wild  flowers 
which  he  had  gathered,  kissed  them  lovingly,  and 
softly  laying  them  on  the  grass,  turned  to  depart, 
but  suddenly  prostrated  himself  and  kissed  the 
grave  where  his  dead  friend  rested.  Then  he  rose, 
walked  slowly  away,  and  soon  darkness  hid  him 
from  view. 

A  few  days  later,  Mrs.  Wellington  and  her  chil- 


320  MANULITO. 

dren  were  surprised  on  seeing  Manulito  ushered 
into  their  home.  He  had  long  been  given  up  as 
dead.  His  once  proud  spirit  seemed  crushed. 
They  tried  to  induce  him  to  make  them  an  ex 
tended  visit,  but  he  would  not  consent.  On  the 
night  of  the  second  day,  just  such  a  moonlight 
night  as  when  he  bade  them  farewell  before,  the 
spirit  of  unrest  seized  upon  him,  and  he  said, 
"  The  footsteps  of  Manulito  must  follow  the  trail 
defined  by  his  heart,  and  his  heart  bids  him  seek 
the  prairies  and  the  mountains,  there  to  pass  his 
last  days  among  his  adopted  people." 

Years  afterwards  they  learned  that  he  had  died 
a  peaceful  death.  His  declining  years  showed  the 
nobility  of  the  man,  for  his  character  was  such  that 
he  was  loved  in  life  and  idolized  in  death.  And 
when  chivalrous  deeds  are  mentioned  as  having 
been  done  by  members  of  his  adopted  tribe,  or  the 
names  of  their  greatest  warriors  pronounced,  the 
name  of  Manulito  takes  precedence  of  all.  He 
was  an  Indian,  and  yet 

"  His  life  was  gentle ;  and  the  elements 
So  mix'd  in  him,  that  Nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  "  This  was  a  man  I" 


THE  END. 


Wife 


I 


